I am a sucker for historic “golden age” hotels. Golden age means different things in different places. By way of example, give me the Royal Hawaiian over the Hilton Hawaiian Village every time.

In Palm Springs the Golden Age (of Hollywood) embraces the 30’s when pencil-mustachioed A-listers could take platinum blonde actresses to bungalows that were just past the two-hour rule where what happened outside the Hollywood boundary stayed out of the public domain, at least in theory.

This is the Avalon, mostly bungalows and small pools and a bygone era vibe. We were there on a certificate.

I liked it, but check-in was the most sphincter-tightening of over a thousand+ hotel check-ins (leaping over being given an occupied room with a guy in underwear on the bed and also a room where a large wet spot might well have been blood but certainly wasn’t water).

As our room wasn’t ready at noon, we left. Since there were some critical things in my wife’s luggage, not to mention technology, Mrs. Jailer nixed leaving luggage in the car, and we traded five items for a valet ticket and the safety of hotel storage.

Coming back we grabbed a key and were told our luggage had been placed in the room. Nice touch, yes? Unfortunately, the room door was open and there was no luggage. My wife starting hyperventilating. Back down to talk with the manager and in fact the luggage was still in storage. Unbidden, the desk manager offered a heartfelt apology and a $100 dining credit. In retrospect I might of also asked to be transferred to a bungalow but the two-room upstairs suite with balcony over the pool in the main building that we explored while searching for our belongings seemed more than OK.

The resort fee came with two glasses of (much needed) wine, valet parking and the Spa with its jacuzzi and slightly more than minimally appointed weight room. No Titanium breakfast amenity, as anticipated.

The $100 dining credit subsidized about 40% of dinner at Melville’s, which is said to be Frank Sinatra’s favorite Palm Springs restaurant, and is at Avalon’s sister hotel the Ingleside Inn just two doors down. Really old school: Beef Wellington, Cherry Jubilee and a clientele that looked like Bobby-Soxers in their day.

Accepting that the luggage issue was an outlier, the nice public spaces along with a perfectly acceptable room plus an easy walk to downtown puts the Avalon on the potential return list.