Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Before and after

My first visit to the Algonquin, in the 1970s, was for a drink in the lobby with my friend Glen, then newly returned from living in Europe. We were there because he wanted to show me where the Vicious Circle had met and, if I remember rightly, he said the lobby which to my eyes looked old and tired, had been recently refurbished and, to the relief of the clientele, few if any visual changes had been made. Years ago, we stayed there a few times, swapping the inconvenience of small rooms for the glamour (to my eyes) of the lobby but, eventually, the purgatorial seating and intrusive waiters sent us seeking a more contemporary setting and larger rooms.  



So it was, the morning after the previous day's vespertine glance at the Algonquin remodel, I couldn't for the life of me recall if the wonderful old nicotine-stained Chinoiserie murals were still there, I headed out across the street, warnings of doom from the doormen notwithstanding. The murals were gone, of course, replaced with what appeared to be honey vinyl. Otherwise, not much had changed excepting for sconces, chandeliers, and textiles, or so it appeared to me. And it perhaps is entirely the point that like a face after photoshopping or or a facelift, it looses looses much of what had been its character and therefore its attraction.


The Royalton, in all of its late 1980s Starckness, attracted me no-end, though we never stayed there. It caught the moment and I wish those interiors had survived despite them probably showcasing the worst of the that time's bullishness – for all, or maybe because of, its in-yer-face icy arrogance it had tremendous style. A high-water mark, I think, in hotel design that was obliterated not twenty years later and replaced with a bronzed woody ponderousness as visually negating as advanced cataracts. In the redesign no reference was made to its past – except that our bathroom vanity stool looked very similar to one of Starck's small tables.





Of the two – the Royalton and the Algonquin – it was the former that was teeming with the after-work crowd. My friend David and I discussed the fact that we both remembered the Philippe Starck remodel but on looking around thought it unlikely, given the age of the majority of the clientele, that many others would. "Begone dull care" said he and hailed the waitress – we needed to be on our way.



Uber fans and grateful customers thereof, we headed in comfort to the Gloria Vanderbilt – Recent Paintings opening at the 1stdibs Gallery later that evening. Look at last Friday's New York Social Diary for an account of the opening – not that you will see me, but the Celt is there.


I do find that the famous underwhelm and such an event, perfect in its way for people-watching, had its complement thereof. No-one resembled their photoshopped images except in passing, which is surreal, really, if you think about it. I'm not referring to the artist who, for a woman just turned ninety, looked pretty amazing. Twice I found myself being filmed for the HBO special reportedly being made about Gloria Vanderbilt, and was amused when the lady with the cameraman called me by a name not my own. Such is fame!




Later that evening as we ate Indian food one of the charming ladies at the next table which whom I'd struck up a conversation asked me if I recognized her uncle in the photo she handed me. I did. There he was, shortly after his wife had died, looking for all the proud family man in his element, arm around a younger version of the lady at my side – George Burns. There was fame!

12 comments:

  1. Time travel in every paragraph. I looked up "vespertine" so now I know. Hope to see you out one day.

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    1. Thank you, Terry.It's been a while since I've been out and rarely go to ADAC these days. I've become a stick-in-the-mud, I suppose. See you soon, I hope.

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  2. I enjoyed the historical associations of the Algonquin Round Table a number of times at the hotel in the room filled with a funky arrangement of furniture. I don't know if that was the Pergola/Oak Room or the Rose Room, the two spaces where they actually met, but it was essentially gone in the 90s.
    The Post-Modern version of Dorothy Draper at the Royalton was fun at first, but aged poorly and quickly. Maybe it was all the knock-offs. It was a stage setting, not a bad concept for a hotel lobby if the actors are costumed to match the scenery - and they were not after the first flush.
    I don't think either re-do is bad, just different. What was is now gone, and maybe that is the way it should be.

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    1. The Devoted Classicist, thank you. I loved the Starck remodel and its successor is not really my taste (too dark and hard to see) but it is enormously popular. I would stay there again because the rooms were reasonable and the bathrooms large.

      The Algonquin remodel is perfectly serviceable and anyone not looking for differences would
      possibly have found it an improvement. But you're right – what's gone is gone. The hostess told me that the murals were still there but had been covered over.

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  3. The Royalton was on our radar when we last visited New York, but instead we opted for Morgans in Madison Avenue, which I liked a great deal. I should have gone for a gander, but other events overtook that plan, as they so often do. Next time perhaps.

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    1. columnist, thank you.

      I will look at Morgan's the next time we're going to New York (July, I think, on the way to Scotland). It seems very contemporary and quite luxurious. Thank you for the reference.

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  4. Hi Blue
    What do you think of Gloria's pictures?
    If anybody else had done them, would they get a show in NY?
    I can't think of any 'name' amateur painters whose work is worth shlepijng to see, can you.
    Best, bitter and twisted

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    1. Oh, dear! Anonymous, you do put a gent in a tight spot.

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  5. I especially love two things: the sideways look at photoshopped fame and "vespertine". Delicious.

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    1. ELS, thank you. My apologies for a late reply. As for "vespertine" think of Michael Innes.

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  6. So long ago, my first love and I hung out at the Algonquin, youthfully drunk on its associations and faded glamour. Some things should never change, but of course they do.

    and ah, the underwhelming-ness of fame. Provoking as always.

    And re the paintings: Always better to be a gentleman.

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    1. Dilettante, thank you. My apologies for the late response. It was the associations with American literature (a new and exciting discovery in the 1970s) that gave the Algonquin its romance. It has changed but so have I.

      As you read, I made no criticism of the artwork even when invited to by a commenter.

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