Travel & Leisure | April 2001

THE HUDSON | NEW YORK CITY

Manhattan is deservedly notorious for obscene hotel rates; the average tariff recently topped $250, and even that sounds low to those who have tried to book a room here lately. Fortunately, there are exceptions-and we don't mean places where the remote control is bolted to the nightstand.

Hotelier first wooed budget-minded guests a decade ago with the Paramount on 46th Street, heralding a trend for "cheap chic" that was, in reality, far more chic than cheap. But last November Schrager raised the stakes-or rather, lowered them-with the Hudson, just off Central Park South, whose smallest rooms rent for as little as $95 a night.

Go on, find another New York hotel where a C-note gets you bed linens of 300-thread-count Egyptian cotton, a CD player, and a private phone number for your room-not to mention access to a spa and an Olympic-sized pool, all within the hotel.

Of course, the real draw, as you may have heard, isn't the service (it can take three hours just to get a pot of coffee delivered to your room); it's the Scene. On any given night, everyone and his A&R rep seems to be vying for admission to the bar; the gossip columnists can't go a day without writing about the place. Schrager's hotels have created buzz ever since he hit upon the idea of "lobby socializing" at the Royalton back in the eighties, yet the Hudson's popularity must have exceeded even his expectations.

And the bar is quite a sight, with the surreal Francesco Clemente ceiling fresco (conveniently located about eight inches above your head), the amoeba chairs and gold-leaf settees, and an eerily illuminated glass floor. Only a few lucky people can look good lit from underneath, and most of them are here. On crowded nights, the bar has a guests-only policy-which makes that $95 room tariff either New York's best lodging value or its priciest cover charge. I know of a guy in TriBeCa who books himself a room here on weekends, just so he's guaranteed entry to the bar. Hey, it's sexier than bribing the doorman.

So what's the big attraction? For starters, that signature Philippe Starck design in the public areas: a whimsical cacophony of Charles Eames and Louis XV; of benches fashioned from tree trunks and fiberglass; of comic plays on scale, like the 500-gallon watering can in the courtyard. The courtyard itself is another selling point-in warm weather it achieves the seamless fusion of indoors and out that works so well at the Delano in Miami Beach and the Mondrian in West Hollywood. There's talk of recitals and readings being staged here, bringing real meaning to Schrager's concept of the hotel as theater.

Elsewhere, the ambience is positively Ivy League. Long, communal oak tables fill the Cafeteria restaurant, which calls to mind a college dining hall with its three-story-high ceiling and acres of dark-wood paneling. (Just as in a college dining hall, it's not about the food, but whom you lock eyes with.) The Library Bar-as cozy a spot as Schrager and Starck could hope to create-is dominated by a huge fireplace and an antique, royal purple pool table. Surrounded by chessboards and dusty old tomes, you can't help ordering a Cognac and holding forth on Foucault, or at least pretending you are.

The 1,000 guest rooms pick up on the collegiate theme, exploring what you might call Dorm Chic. Space is tight and most bathrooms have only stall showers. There isn't much by way of seating, either. ("We encourage people to get out of their rooms," my bellman admits.) Singles are outfitted with a brushed-aluminum naval chair and a very slim desk/table pushed against the foot of the bed-shades of freshman year-plus a couple of tiny stools that slide under the nightstands.

But what the room lacks in square footage and furniture, it makes up for in pure visuals. The rich African makore-wood paneling and floors add a warmth and elegance missing from most Schrager hotels, and offset the stark coolness of the ultra-white bed linens, the gauzy white curtains, and the white vinyl headboard. Funky Clemente-designed light boxes double as bedside reading lamps. Not that you'll be spending the night with a book.