QUIRKY COMFORT PARKER PALM SPRINGS SHATTERS MOLD OF CONVENTIONAL DESERT RESORT.

Byline: STORY AND PHOTOS BY ERIC NOLAND Travel Editor

PALM SPRINGS -- In the lobby, beneath a dazzling art-glass chandelier, are ... suits of armor and a zebra-striped rug. In the guest room, wedged against a stylish coffee-table book on contemporary design, is ... a trashy novel by Jacqueline Susann. In the fine-dining restaurant, as you lift your eyes from a wine list that includes a $375 bottle of Chateau Margaux, you see ... a wall adorned with psychedelic silk-screen images, as if lifted from '60s album covers.

The Parker Palm Springs is an upscale desert resort, but clearly one that doesn't take itself too seriously. Which well suits its youthful clientele. It's no fun staying at a stuffy, pretentious place where everything is just so, and the front desk clerk raises an eyebrow if your elegant resortwear isn't quite crisp enough.

Here, whimsy prevails. And simple enjoyment is indulged.

The hotel has found its niche since opening in fall 2004 after a $29 million renovation. Its mixed-up interior design matches its meandering pedigree: It originally opened in 1959 as a Holiday Inn, and was later owned for a time by Gene Autry, then by Merv Griffin, which probably accounts for boxy desert modern buildings standing alongside grand confections with two-story columns and rooftop balustrades.

Jonathan Adler, an acclaimed potter who designed the interiors, has remarked that many boutique hotels wow you initially, but the effect can wear thin over your stay. He was striving for the opposite effect: You might be dubious about the place at first, but you come to embrace its quirky charm over a couple of days.

That was our experience on a June weekend at the Parker Palm Springs (a name it has settled on after originally opening as Le Parker Meridien Palm Springs). Decorum is relaxed, staff is friendly, appointments in the rooms are sumptuous and public spaces are inviting. It just felt, well, comfortable.

``We call it five-star service, no attitude,'' general manager Thomas Meding said later in a phone interview. ``We redefine luxury as it exists, taking the dissonance and flair of arrogance out of it. ...

``The element of fun is a huge, huge aspect, but it doesn't mean business is conducted in a less-serious manner.''

During the day -- particularly when the furnace conditions of a Coachella Valley summer have set in -- guests gravitate to the two outdoor pools. The loungers here are covered in thick pads, and the bath-sheet towels are made of plush Turkish cotton. Umbrellas provide merciful shade. The water in both pools is slightly saline, precluding the need for skin-ravaging chlorine.

Desirous of some recreation? You won't have to worry about excessive exertion. Two courts for petanque -- a French bowling game similar to Italian bocce -- are shaded by trees, near a lemonade stand that is cooled by misting jets. Elsewhere on the grounds, a closely cropped lawn is set up for croquet. Tennis is available, but here's a twist: The courts are clay.

Bicycles may be checked out for a ride around the neighborhood, but the appeal of this endeavor is limited, because of the preponderance of gated communities and such busy, fast- moving streets as Palm Canyon Drive and the Gene Autry Trail.

The spa is also a popular destination. With the tongue-in-cheek name of the Palm Springs Yacht Club, the 22,000-square-foot facility spurns the resort norm. No new-age wood flute music. No hushed conversations. And brochures pointedly note that if you'd like to conclude your aroma lux massage with a shot of single-malt whiskey rather than a tumbler of carrot juice, they'll happily oblige you. A sassy manifesto printed on the wall concludes with, ``We believe you are only young once ... but you can be immature forever.''

It's when evening falls that the Parker is really in its element.

The grounds, encircled by towering palms and lush with bougainvillea, lavender, salvia, creeping thyme, rosemary and lantana, are seductively lit.

Dozens of sitting areas are set up for either intimate conversation or a group confab. Canvas butterfly chairs encircle a fire pit. Living-room furniture has been moved outside for comfortable lounging just off the lobby. High-backed chairs with bright-orange pads are positioned beneath globular lamps on a pool patio. In many of the settings, candles throw light from lantern shelters.

The hotel has a bar in the lobby, but guests are encouraged to carry their drinks outside, to turn these gardens into one sprawling alfresco cocktail lounge.

One place where the outdoors is not celebrated is the hotel's fine-dining restaurant, Mr. Parker's. Unlike most such establishments in the Palm Springs area, it has no patio tables at all.

But that's not the vibe it was going for. Instead, this is pure Rat Pack, with clubby black-leather booths, a lot of dark wood, mirror panels on the ceiling. And, uh, the incongruity of that pop art, covering just about every square inch of the walls. The music throws you off guard in a similar manner: techno pop followed by a schmaltzy '70s hit from England Dan & John Ford Coley? Whew.

Mr. Parker's is on hiatus for the slack summer season and will reopen at the end of August. Dinner trade has been diverted to Norma's, the hotel's casual eatery. (Norma's has a cleverly inventive breakfast menu that will have you flummoxed over what not to order; it also has a patio dining area shaded with bright-colored bolts of fabric.)

But if you're planning a stay here for the fall or winter, you'll find superb French country fare at Mr. Parker's. My wife declared her duck confit the best she'd ever eaten -- two juicy, flavorful thigh-leg portions, with crispy skin, positioned atop a potato galette. We also raved about two salads -- frisee with poached quail eggs and lardons, and mache with shavings of parmesan and slices of candied beets.

The wine list is goofy, divided not by varietal or country, but according to price category. Supposedly, you're given corresponding stemware so that other diners can ascertain whether you're extravagant or stingy.

We might have perused the wine list more thoroughly had we been able to see it. The mood lighting at Mr. Parker's is so dim that the waiter hands you a tiny flashlight with the menu. Romantic, yes, but it descends to the ridiculous when you can barely identify exactly what you're cutting into on your plate.

This was one of a few minor complaints with the Parker Palm Springs. Its contrarian approach is refreshing on many levels, but convention would be welcome in a few areas.

When you arrive, you might wait in a slow-moving line of three or four guests at the front desk before getting to a clerk. When you say you'd like to check in, you'll hear, ``Great, let me call up to the concierge desk and have them send down a receptionist.'' It made me want to ask, ``Then what, exactly, are you?''

If your room isn't quite ready yet, you get to come back and wait in this line again, for someone to summon a receptionist again. But at least then you're whisked directly to your room. All the processing is done in advance, and they don't even bother to take a credit card imprint.

The hotel's promotional materials touted the Moroccan tea served upon arrival. Maybe you have to ask for it. By the time we realized we'd missed out on it, we were sipping the $8 beers at the pool.

Early the next morning, a jug of coffee in the lobby would have been nice, but there was none (nor any Moroccan tea, for that matter).

A card in the room addressed some frequently asked questions, and declared that the spa offered ``morning hikes.'' We called to inquire about them, but no one seemed to know a thing about that activity. Eventually, a concierge called back to suggest we try Joshua Tree National Park -- which is roughly a 60-mile drive to the northeast.

The resort fee, meanwhile, is steep -- $30 per day. This covers valet parking, the fitness center, drinks in the room fridge and, according to a reservations clerk on the phone, ``use of the pools.'' (Hotels are charging for that now?)

But the comforts of the Parker more than make up for these little annoyances. This is especially true in the guest rooms, where you're pampered with wondrous linens on the bed and in the bathroom -- in fact, the hotel is positively decadent about the number of towels it lays out.

The profusion and quality of toiletries is astonishing, all in generous portions, as if you're expected to stay a while: L'Occitane hand soap, Hermes bath soap, Molton Brown shower gel, Quercus shampoo and conditioner, Erno Laszlo body lotion, and also sunblock and lip balm.

The window of our room provided a beautiful frame for the San Jacinto Mountains to the west, and peered out through a hood of red-blossom bougainvillea, which flourishes to a height of two stories on some of these buildings.

Of course, the decor of the room can be a bit confounding, but that conforms to the hotel's general philosophy. ``We try to deliver the unexpected,'' said Meding.

In our room were framed, black-and-white celebrity photos: Sophia Loren, which made sense, and Geraldo Rivera with a broken nose, which didn't. A craftwork wall hanging in rust tones appeared to be a refugee from the '70s. At the foot of the minimalist four-poster bed was a bench upholstered in faux leopard skin. And perched on a leather web chair was a cushion adorned in crewel embroidery.

Maybe all this will make sense once you've heard the back story.

Concocting some explanatory fiction is an emerging trend in boutique hotels. (The refurbished Carlton in San Francisco pretends to be the home of a ``globetrotting Swedish grandmother'' who has brought back all manner of artifacts from her travels.) The Parker Palm Springs asks guests to imagine they're paying a weekend visit to the desert estate of ``your great aunt,'' and perhaps dining at Mr. Parker's, ``a hangout for her wastrel husband.''

Ah, of course: That explains the mishmash furnishings and utter lack of pretension.

But the next time we're hangin' with Mr. Parker, we might ask him to turn up the lights.

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IF YOU GO

GETTING THERE: The Parker Palm Springs is at 4200 E. Palm Canyon Drive.

RATES: The hotel is currently running a summer special. Available Sunday through Thursday until Sept. 15, the ``Spa Junkies Delight'' package is priced from $199 per night and includes a $200 credit in the hotel spa -- yes, it means the room is essentially free. On the weekends, the package is priced from $299 per night with a $200 spa credit. In high season, rates range up from $395.

SPA PACKAGE: In September, the Parker will launch Camp PSYC, a spa retreat for adults that promises not to deliver the ascetic experience found in spa getaways at some resorts. The cost is $1,500, which covers three nights in the hotel, three meals daily, three one-hour spa treatments and the daily resort fee.

INFORMATION, RESERVATIONS: www.theparkerpalmsprings.com; [phone].

CAPTION(S):

7 photos, box

Photo:

(1 -- 2 -- color) A luxury hotel has to be utterly lacking in self-consciousness to adorn its lobby with suits of armor and zebra-striped rugs, right, while hanging pop art of smokin' lips on its walls, below, but that defines the Parker Palm Springs.

(3 -- 4 -- color) A facade of breeze blocks frames fountain, palm trees and desert mountains at the Parker Palm Springs, a hotel that is unpretentious enought to hang a couple of basket chairs in a lobby alcove, opposite.

(5 -- color) Seductively lit grounds and pathways, above, encourage unhurried evening strolls at the Parker Palm Springs.

(6 -- color) Brightly colored furnishings and chandeliers that resemble light sculptures, left, are among the traits of a lobby sitting area.

(7 -- color) A minimalist four-poster bed, pop art on the walls and whimsical touches like faux leopard skin benches define the guest rooms at the Parker Palm Springs, whereas the appointments in the bathrooms are pure indulgence.

Eric Noland/Travel Editor

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IF YOU GO (see text)