Ever since Spencer Tracy uttered the immortal lines:
Not that I intend to die. But when I do, I don't want to go to heaven. I want to go to Claridges
it has been on my list of places to visit. Now that I have stayed there I too want to join Tracy in the afterlife; living it up in an art deco suite. Clinking whiskey tumblers and cuttin' the rug.
One of the finest actors of his generation, Tracy was also an alcoholic insomniac but I digress.
The heritage of Claridges is vast. Royalty, heads of state, movie stars have all graced its interiors since 1812 and left with their reputations intact for Claridges is discrete. With a capital D.
There was nothing discrete however about my excitement when we checked in and found out that we had been upgraded to a suite. A suite!
We noted that it's your first visit, they said to me, and that you are pregnant. We want you to enjoy yourself.
I think that's when I fell in love with Claridges.
The Linley suite which was ours for one glorious evening was Art Deco deluxe. There was no chintz to be seen anywhere.
After I'd done a few laps of the suite, touching things and concluding that the entire suite was larger than our apartment, there was a knock at the door. It was our butler. The butler that came with the suite. She had brought me a pregnancy pillow. Without being asked.
Rubbing my belly, I whispered to Dragon:
If you want to come early, now is a really, really good time to arrive.
After our (all too short) stay, I realised what I loved most about Claridges was its understatement. It's not flash, modern or overly grand. It has no razzamatazz.
But what it does have is charm, elegance and the best damn customer service I have ever experienced at a hotel ever.
Which is why I wrote my first ever TripAdvisor review which tells a little bit more about our visit.
Not that I intend to die. But when I do, I don't want to go to heaven. I want to go to Claridges
it has been on my list of places to visit. Now that I have stayed there I too want to join Tracy in the afterlife; living it up in an art deco suite. Clinking whiskey tumblers and cuttin' the rug.
One of the finest actors of his generation, Tracy was also an alcoholic insomniac but I digress.
 | |||||
| My suite or yours? |
There was nothing discrete however about my excitement when we checked in and found out that we had been upgraded to a suite. A suite!
We noted that it's your first visit, they said to me, and that you are pregnant. We want you to enjoy yourself.
I think that's when I fell in love with Claridges.
The Linley suite which was ours for one glorious evening was Art Deco deluxe. There was no chintz to be seen anywhere.
After I'd done a few laps of the suite, touching things and concluding that the entire suite was larger than our apartment, there was a knock at the door. It was our butler. The butler that came with the suite. She had brought me a pregnancy pillow. Without being asked.
Rubbing my belly, I whispered to Dragon:
If you want to come early, now is a really, really good time to arrive.
After our (all too short) stay, I realised what I loved most about Claridges was its understatement. It's not flash, modern or overly grand. It has no razzamatazz.
But what it does have is charm, elegance and the best damn customer service I have ever experienced at a hotel ever.
Which is why I wrote my first ever TripAdvisor review which tells a little bit more about our visit.
 |
| Forget dying. I'm going back way before then! |
No comments:
Post a Comment