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038: Dream Chic

It's 7.00am and I'm sitting in a comfy chair at the W Hotel in downtown Seattle. The place is done up in modern chic -- all dark woods, chrome, simple geometric designs, and primary colors. The music is charmingly downtempo and Brazilian in flavor, and there is just a whiff of smoked turkey in the air (though that may be from the banquet setup in the next room). The architecture is tight and cozy, very articulated, and yet without sharp edges, and it wraps around you and clearly partitions you into a nested space.

It is quiet at this time of the morning. So quiet I can hear the HVAC system whirring in the ceiling. The thick burgundy curtain next to me is drifting in the breeze. In fact, all of the velvet curtains on this side of the room are dancing, gently shimmying like elegant ladies in tight cocktail dresses who consider a twitch of the hip to be full-tilt boogie.

I'm not sure I would be able to find my way out of here again, even if I wanted to. But not in that "fucking hell, get me out of this maze!" panic that is the nightmare labyrinth of IKEA. The embrace of the W Hotel whispers that you shouldn't think about the rest of the world. They don't want you to worry about leaving; when it is time, someone will be round to escort you to your vehicle. Until then, it is just you and the simple geometry and the swaying curtains. It is a place of carefully calculated atmosphere. It exudes serenity and sex and alcohol in crystal glasses. It is a place that says, "I am more sleek and graceful in my Sterile Deco design than you can ever hope for, but I will accept you anyway." It is a place that -- if you are plain -- you can disappear; and -- if you are dazzling -- it will be your adoring backdrop.

This is the place where Liz Kimbrel dreams of staying.

I wonder what the rooms are like.

Posted by Teppo at April 25, 2003 08:04 AM

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