Victor Drai

Victor Drai doesn't get bent out of shape very easily. After all, he knows that as the owner of Drai's, one of the hottest restaurants in town, and as the person who ultimately determines who gets in and who gets snubbed, he's bound to make a few enemies. A local magazine reported that billionaire Marvin Davis and producer Arnold Kopelson were told nothing was available when they called for last-minute reservations.

"If this place is so hard to get into, then what's he doing here?" asked 28-year-old Alex Van de Camp, gesturing to an overweight man standing just behind him on the front patio of Drai's, the white-hot new nightclub on the rooftop of the W Hollywood Hotel. Van de Camp's two friends laughed uncomfortably. He had verbalized what generally remains unspoken in Hollywood: the Darwinian nature of the velvet rope. In this case, the strong and beautiful get into Drai's and the weak go to less-discriminating Sunset Strip bars like Saddle Ranch.

"If this place is so hard to get into, then what's he doing here?" asked 28-year-old Alex Van de Camp, gesturing to an overweight man standing just behind him on the front patio of Drai's, the white-hot new nightclub on the rooftop of the W Hollywood Hotel. Van de Camp's two friends laughed uncomfortably. He had verbalized what generally remains unspoken in Hollywood: the Darwinian nature of the velvet rope. In this case, the strong and beautiful get into Drai's and the weak go to less-discriminating Sunset Strip bars like Saddle Ranch.

It's 2:30 (the earliest lunch reservation I could get on a recent Friday afternoon) and the new Drai's Cafe is quite the scene. A Mercedes 300 coupe bearing the vanity plates of an ICM agent glides away from the valet, while a woman in a blue catsuit and black ostrich-feather purse waits for her car, blowing kisses at acquaintances. At well past 3, we're still waiting outside for our table when Sharon Stone emerges from the clubby Beverly Hills restaurant. No wonder no one wanted to leave.

With the opening of Drai's Cafe in Beverly Hills, Victor Drai now has someplace to put all the folks he can't manage to squeeze into Drai's, his West Hollywood spot with paparazzi permanently staked out in front. The celeb-hounds haven't ferreted out the new cafe--yet. So there's still a chance to slip in, unnoticed. Not that many of this crowd would want to.

"Do you know who I am?" asks Victor Drai in his signature French accent as he pulls up a chair at his trendy West Hollywood restaurant. Indeed, the engaging owner of Drai's is no stranger to controversy. When he first opened the doors last summer, he angered some of Hollywood's powerbrokers by turning them away from his packed restaurant if they called late expecting reservations.

The Rolls-Royces are back in front of what used to be L'Ermitage, a restaurant that during its heyday in the late '70s and early '80s sometimes looked more like a used luxury-car lot than a place to eat. Some of the old faces are back too--there are L'Orangerie's Gerard Ferry and Patrick Terrail from the old Ma Maison, checking out the scene. In the kitchen is Claude Segal, a chef who helped shape the direction of L.A. cuisine in the early '80s.

It's 2:30 (the earliest lunch reservation I could get on a recent Friday afternoon) and the new Drai's Cafe is quite the scene. A Mercedes 300 coupe bearing the vanity plates of an ICM agent glides away from the valet, while a woman in a blue catsuit and black ostrich-feather purse waits for her car, blowing kisses at acquaintances. At well past 3, we're still waiting outside for our table when Sharon Stone emerges from the clubby Beverly Hills restaurant. No wonder no one wanted to leave.

Being popular isn't easy for Bernard Erpicum. When he goes out to dinner, the longtime Spago maitre d' and sommelier--no longer associated with Wolfgang Puck's restaurant and planning to open his own restaurant in March--can barely walk through a room without distributing at least a few air-kisses. But Erpicum threw a few too many kisses at Drai's, the hot, celebrity-filled restaurant on La Cienega, and now is no longer welcome there.

When Patrick Terrail closed the original Ma Maison nine years ago, there was a lot of talk about where people would be heading for Friday lunch. Doing lunch at Ma Maison, or M.M. as the gossip columnists called it, was a ritual, and its tables were as sought after as a three-picture deal. Although many have tried--Chasen's, Il Giardino, Picnic, even Terrail himself at Ma Maison Sofitel--no restaurant has come even close to replacing the old Astroturfed spot on Melrose.

With the opening of Drai's Cafe in Beverly Hills, Victor Drai now has someplace to put all the folks he can't manage to squeeze into Drai's, his West Hollywood spot with paparazzi permanently staked out in front. The celeb-hounds haven't ferreted out the new cafe--yet. So there's still a chance to slip in, unnoticed. Not that many of this crowd would want to.

"Do you know who I am?" asks Victor Drai in his signature French accent as he pulls up a chair at his trendy West Hollywood restaurant. Indeed, the engaging owner of Drai's is no stranger to controversy. When he first opened the doors last summer, he angered some of Hollywood's powerbrokers by turning them away from his packed restaurant if they called late expecting reservations.

When Patrick Terrail closed the original Ma Maison nine years ago, there was a lot of talk about where people would be heading for Friday lunch. Doing lunch at Ma Maison, or M.M. as the gossip columnists called it, was a ritual, and its tables were as sought after as a three-picture deal. Although many have tried--Chasen's, Il Giardino, Picnic, even Terrail himself at Ma Maison Sofitel--no restaurant has come even close to replacing the old Astroturfed spot on Melrose.

Victor Drai doesn't get bent out of shape very easily. After all, he knows that as the owner of Drai's, one of the hottest restaurants in town, and as the person who ultimately determines who gets in and who gets snubbed, he's bound to make a few enemies. A local magazine reported that billionaire Marvin Davis and producer Arnold Kopelson were told nothing was available when they called for last-minute reservations.

Being popular isn't easy for Bernard Erpicum. When he goes out to dinner, the longtime Spago maitre d' and sommelier--no longer associated with Wolfgang Puck's restaurant and planning to open his own restaurant in March--can barely walk through a room without distributing at least a few air-kisses. But Erpicum threw a few too many kisses at Drai's, the hot, celebrity-filled restaurant on La Cienega, and now is no longer welcome there.

Do appearances count? California's unemployment figures still slouch toward double digits, the austerity thing is still chic, but up on La Cienega Boulevard, the Bentleys are stacked up again, the Benzes triple-parked almost to the double yellow line, because the old L'Ermitage space is back in business as a restaurant called Drai's. It's a hot new place to wear Chanel, and the points-on-the-gross crowd is happy. Baby artichokes reign once again on this edge of Restaurant Row.

Do appearances count? California's unemployment figures still slouch toward double digits, the austerity thing is still chic, but up on La Cienega Boulevard, the Bentleys are stacked up again, the Benzes triple-parked almost to the double yellow line, because the old L'Ermitage space is back in business as a restaurant called Drai's. It's a hot new place to wear Chanel, and the points-on-the-gross crowd is happy. Baby artichokes reign once again on this edge of Restaurant Row.

We know it's hard keeping up with the comings and goings of restaurants in this town. In the going category, the beautiful Bistro Garden will close its Beverly Hills location on May 1, one month later than planned. And coming, a few blocks away, Victor Drai is taking over the former Carson's restaurant site on Bedford Drive. Drai is opening a casual version of Drai's, his La Cienega hot spot.

The Rolls-Royces are back in front of what used to be L'Ermitage, a restaurant that during its heyday in the late '70s and early '80s sometimes looked more like a used luxury-car lot than a place to eat. Some of the old faces are back too--there are L'Orangerie's Gerard Ferry and Patrick Terrail from the old Ma Maison, checking out the scene. In the kitchen is Claude Segal, a chef who helped shape the direction of L.A. cuisine in the early '80s.