There are obvious centers of power: business headquarters, movie studios, government buildings. Then there are the places where power is wielded more quietly—the rooms where ideas are born over martinis, business deals brought up over barolos, where “networking” is verboten but deeper conversations about are very much in vogue. And in Los Angeles, that place is Tower Bar.
The restaurant inside the near-century-old Sunset Tower has long been the preferred evening playground of Hollywood’s power players—and not just the A-list celebrities (although there are plenty of those, with regulars including Mick Jagger and Jennifer Aniston), but the studio heads, super-agents, and other invisible hands that guide the multi-billion-dollar entertainment industry. In a 1947 letter, Truman Capote described the Sunset Tower as “a very posh establishment” where “every scandal that ever happened happened.” Not much has changed.
At the heart of it all is Dimitri Dimitrov, the 75-year-old maitre d’. He oversees the room’s intricate choreography every evening—the reservations, the seating chart, the VIPs, the walk-ins, the drama—in an Armani blazer and Timex watch given to him by Bill Murray. Known for his attention to detail and his charming Moldovan accent, Dimitrov is so beloved by the powers-that-be in Hollywood that he’s become one of them: in 2022, he played a maitre d’ in Don’t Worry Darling, and in September 2024, The Hollywood Reporter announced a documentary about him was in the works. “In a town where gossip is the coin of the realm, Mr. Dmitrov is a sphinxlike figure who knows everything and says nothing,” read a profile of Dimitrov in The New York Times. “And, like Erich von Stroheim in Sunset Boulevard, his loyalty to his fragile industry charges is fierce and absolute.”
So, this Oscars weekend, Vogue asked Dimitriv to give us a day in his life. It starts with coffee—and dozens of calls asking for reservations—and ends with a seating chart. Below, read everything that happens in between.
11 a.m.: Getting Out of Bed
I get six and a half hours of sleep. On a weekend, maybe half an hour more. But If only have four hours sleep, three, four hours, then I feel it. I’m not good. I’m irritated, so I’m not as good. It’s a very slow waking up.
Midday: Coffee and Reservation Requests
By 12, I’m having my coffee. There’s already dozens of incoming calls to try to make reservations. I see what we can do on the floor plan with timing and the quantity and the table, who we can accommodate in.
I’ll be making probably six to 12 calls to various important clients. And I’ll tell them that reservation is confirmed. If there are little changes—they would like a reservation at 7:30, say—I’ll tell them, ‘Can you please come half an hour earlier, and then we’re looking forward to serving you.’ In a very humble way.
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