What makes a hotel truly special? Is it the history, the abundance of gold, or simply a bed in which you sleep better than at home? During a journey through iconic addresses and striking newcomers, luxury proves to have many faces. From a reborn New York icon to a hotel where gold leaf is almost the standard: three experiences that show that style, service, and atmosphere do not always move in the same direction.
BEIGE
I continue to be amazed. How can you ever make a profit when you spend over 2 billion dollars on the renovation of a hotel? Okay, not just any hotel, but the illustrious Waldorf Astoria in New York, but still. The hotel was closed for renovation for a year and has now reopened, old luster in a new guise. But is it truly regaining the splendor of yesteryear, when the hotel was the place to stay for kings, presidents, and movie stars, and the namesake of the Waldorf salad? Back then it was grand (literally the largest hotel in the world) and one of a kind, but now the city is awash with super-luxury, exclusive hotels with a similar or even higher entry price, starting at around 1.500 euros. All Art Deco elements have been fantastically restored and the enormous and famous Peacock Alley, a combination of hall, lobby, and corridor, still looks imposing. The rooms, on the other hand, are beige. Just as all renovated hotel rooms are beige these days. Beige in color and beige in atmosphere. Beige is a crowd-pleaser. Beige is boring. You can't go wrong with beige. all over Beige is also easy for finding all your stuff again when you pack up your bags for departure. Luxurious? Naturally. When the his and hers When the sinks (in the US, gender neutrality has been taboo since Trump) are hidden in a semi-antique, dresser-like piece of furniture, you know exactly what to expect: everything is tip-top. Super-fast room service (24-hour room service was invented here), competent staff, great bubbly. So, really nothing to complain about. But will I be coming back? So many hotels, so little time. And moreover, now that the guests no longer match the ambiance (tracksuits now versus fur stoles then), the symbiosis is lost. The Waldorf Astoria is Lost between two worlds, to paraphrase the title of Dorin Collins' most famous book.
GOLD
At first I thought: hey, surely there must be a costume party going on in the hotel. Then the man in the satin outfit, embroidered with golden laurel branches and a gleaming white top hat atop his pinned-up dreadlocks, asked if he could help me with the suitcases. It turned out he was the doorman of the new Faena hotel in New York. Faena is an idiosyncratic hotelier who previously made a name for himself with his hotels in Miami and Buenos Aires. Faena abounds in eccentricity, with a penchant for gold: gold leaf ceilings, gold chandeliers, wall appliqués, table edges, and here even a gigantic golden spiral staircase as the centerpiece of the lobby. Combined with wall-sized realistic paintings of stargazing fever dreams and lurking black panthers on a bed of roses, the picture is clear: cheerful, Dubai-esque, hot-blooded, and humorous. Also maddeningly busy. Once in the rooms, things become much quieter in black and white and – there it is again – beige, with bright red accents (slippers, roses, bathroom goodies). Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the High Line and the surrounding area bathe the rooms in light. That last part, however, only if you choose a room with a view, and a view costs an extra thousand a night. Everything here is perfectly fine – lovely bed, soundproof room – although I can't stand staff who treat you like an old friend. Friendly is okay, curious about what you do in life on the edge, but asking why you are traveling alone ('On your own then, are you?') is quite a few steps too far. What happened to that delightfully old-fashioned bowtie approach? I know, I am a dying breed, fixated on courtesy (is it allowed for a few thousand a night?). The majority of guests clearly don't care; that continues undisturbed as the staff serves breakfast. The new etiquette. I still have a lot to learn.
RED
Dining in New York is so heartwarming. It starts with the reservation: 'Your reservation at Barbuto has been confirmed. Your table will be ready at 6:45 PM. You will have an hour and a half to dine if you are a party of two, an hour and forty-five minutes for three people, and two hours if you are with more people. Before your arrival, we will hold your table for ten minutes before placing it on the waiting list. In the event of a no-show or late arrival, we will charge $25 per person to your credit card. We look forward to your visit.' How different that is at restaurant Bougainville in the Amsterdam hotel TwentySeven. A Michelin star, certainly, but also a welcome and service to die for—throughout the entire hotel, for that matter. That is why Michelin, in all its wisdom, awarded the hotel two red keys, the second-highest distinction (only 7 hotels in the Benelux have received this). These keys were awarded for the first time this year and mean the same for the hotels as Michelin stars do for restaurants. Extremely pretentious, then. The Netherlands scores sky-high on the list. L'Europe in Amsterdam is the only one in the entire Benelux with three keys, and while Belgium has only two two-key hotels, the Netherlands counts five: besides TwentySeven in Amsterdam, there is also the Rosewood, Pillows Maurits at the Park, and Tivoli Doelen, plus Château Neercanne in Maastricht. How pathetic (and rightly so, see above) New York scores in comparison to Amsterdam: although the hotel selection there is at least ten times greater than that of our capital, Michelin awarded three keys to only four hotels there. Hopefully, that will teach them.
