The Hotel…who, if it had a personal song, it would be “I’m too sexy for this guest, too sexy for this guest…”

1:00 AM 0 Comments A+ a-

Walking into the W Hotel’s lobby was a revelation. Dim lighting, throbbing club music (coming from the cool bar), and lit votive candles all along the reception desk made me feel like someone should have stamped the back of my hand with Chinese symbol for “Oh my God, this is awesome” in ink only seen under a black light. Speaking of black light, the elevator (club music piped in) and halls are all also dimly light and the hallway light is very black light which made the swirly modern carpet look funkadelic. Unfortunately, one of the prissy librarians from the shuttle also booked a room here and she looked like seeing a Afghani cave with Osama Bin Laden as her concierge would have been preferable. She really needs to loosen up.

My room is very spacious and oh-so-modern and gorgeous. The window seat – which is really a seven-foot couch with silk and corduroy bolsters is my favorite place to hang out. I have a DVD/CD player, a huge desk, an amazing closet and the bathroom of my dreams. The mini-bar is well-stocked with the nicest amenities and there’s even a refrigerator with more alcohol than I think anyone could consume, but I was pleased to see that there were nice fruit juices (Nantucket Nectars) and even some Schwepps Ginger Ale in case I need a $5 bottle of my favorite drink. The water, though, is astounding. It’s called “Voss” and I have never seen a more cool bottle of water anywhere. I will be made cooler by simply drinking it. Yes. I’m serious. You will not recognize the cool me. “Artesian Water from Norway”. Think of it!

I ordered room service because it was late (9:45 Seattle time and my body was working on it being after midnight) and I wasn’t about to head to the uber-cool restaurant since I would so look like I was trying to pick up someone. It was SO good. A three cheese grilled cheese – Monterey jack, cheddar, and chevre on homemade sourdough bread with gourmet fries (“frites”) and a molten chocolate cake for dessert. It was delivered by a man who looked suspiciously like an Italian playboy. Black turtleneck, black pants, expensive haircut and pensive goatee. I bet he spends a lot of time at a chic coffeehouse somewhere writing his blog. Wait a minute. Anyway. I’m exhausted. Friday has been a long day – and so, to my beautiful bed with 8 down pillows. Sigh.