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It is hard to admit
this, but I - a "radical" in my youth - have now reached an age where I deplore
nearly all change. And I especially hate change in my favourite hotels and
restaurants. After all, many of the good things in life revolve around the idea
of returning regularly to the things we enjoy - landscapes, towns, rooms,
paintings and even people.
In the case of travel,
familiar hotels and restaurants can become the cornerstone of a visit to a
particular city - fixed stars in an ever-changing constellation of "development"
and "modernisation". We love a hotel not simply for what it is, but for what it
represents for us - the essential experiences we had and treasured when we last
stayed there.
To find an old friend -
for that is how I regard the hotels and restaurants I have learnt to love during
my travels - altered even slightly is for me often a very depressing experience.
The first hotel ruined
for me by so-called "modernisation" was the La Mamounia in Marrakesh. I
originally stayed there in 1976, when the lobby was still just as it was when
Winston Churchill was a guest - all wicker chairs and slowly turning wooden
ceiling fans. Divine. Until someone had the bright idea of sprucing it up,
installing some colourful plastics, so that it lost all its deep colonial
character and became just another stop-off for blue-haired American tourists on
bus tours of Morocco.
Another favourite
retreat over the years, the Beverly Hills Hotel, was recently given a ghastly
facelift, which virtually erased its signature over-the-top decor. Even LA's
celebrated Polo Lounge has lost the kitsch chic that so defined it, while in
London, the stately restaurant in the Connaught Hotel - for all that Gordon
Ramsay is a great chef - has also sadly been "updated".
There are, of course,
exceptions. The complete redecoration of the Bel-Air Hotel in Los Angeles, for
example, was achieved without anyone first noticing that it was going on or,
later, that it had been done. Much the same goes for La Gazelle d'Or in
Taroudant, Morocco, where constant updating has only intensified, rather than
dissipated, the experience of luxuriating there.
I had a chance to
observe the process of change in action when I visited Miami recently, a city I
had not seen for many years. This is a place where the process of change is a
permanent state of affairs, both in its social and ethnic mix, and in the
pounding its old buildings have been taking from developers since the 1920s.
I decided to stay in
South Beach, the city's most colourful and vibrant district, and one where
change is carefully managed and has been - contrary to my usual fears - largely
for the best. South Beach is full of distinctive Art Deco buildings erected in
the 1930s, many of them now gloriously restored and concentrated in a
mile-square historic district.
I chose The
Raleigh
Hotel on Collins Avenue, based on strong recommendations from friends (to my
mind always the best way to choose a hotel or restaurant). The other candidates
were Chris Blackwell's Marlin Hotel or Ian Schrager's Delano, both fabulous Deco
buildings where extensive changes have been carried out, but with absolute
respect for the architectural and decorative essence of these great monuments.
The
Raleigh was built in
1940 by the ultimate Miami architect, Lawrence Murray Dixon, many of whose hotel
and apartment buildings define the jazzy "Moderne" style of Miami Beach. It is a
perfect little Art Deco "skyscraper", with probably the most beautiful swimming
pool in the city. It is said to have been the favourite pool of Esther Williams,
the 1940s aquatic actress, memorably described by her agent with the phrase:
"Wet, she was a star!"
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The hotel was recently
bought by André Balazs, one
of America's most interesting hoteliers, who also owns 40
Mercer in New York, the Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles and the
Sunset
Motel on Shelter Island near the Hamptons. Balazs is one of those rare hotel
people who cares passionately about how he treats the historic buildings he
runs.
His attitude to change
is simple: he does absolutely everything he needs to do to the fabric of the
building to make it function as a first-rate hotel, but at the same time
preserves its atmosphere and soul. In the case of The
Mercer, he scooped out the
inside of an old New York warehouse and built within it an uiltra-modern, highly
functional hotel - but the building still absolutely fits its Soho setting.
At the Chateau Marmont
in LA - another old favourite of mine - he updated virtually every surface (and,
having stayed there in the late 1970s, I can attest to the fact that they needed
some serious updating) but kept the rooms and lobbies looking virtually the
same.
The
Raleigh was a
perfect base from which to explore the city, which in my case meant trying to
eat at the best restaurants and playing the best golf courses. The first night
we went to Joe's Stone Crab, which provided another chance to look at a place
which has resisted the temptation to change a winning formula. Founded 1913, it
is a Miami institution, celebrated for its mountains of fresh Florida stone crab
claws and Joe's special mustard sauce - if you have never tried them, you still
have something to live for. . .
Then, for further
confirmation that change really isn't always for the best, we played golf at
another splendid Miami institution, the Biltmore Hotel in Coral Gables. This
grandiose pile, built in the 1920s, is another hotel that still envelops you in
the aura of the past. We wandered in the vast cathedral-like lobby and had
breakfast in a tropical courtyard, surrounded by palms and flowers. Maybe next
time we'll stay there.
But sometimes, even
grumpy reactionaries such as me long to experiment with something new, so I
asked The
Raleigh's unfailingly helpful staff to book me into the "hottest"
restaurant in South Beach. They chose Casa Tua, where I took our friends Mel
Brooks and Anne Bancroft to dinner.They swore Casa Tua was the best restaurant
they had found in Miami for years.
Next day we walked from
The
Raleigh through the most colourful South Beach spots, stopping to have
breakfast at the News Cafe, where poor Gianni Versace had his last cappuccino
before being murdered on the steps of his huge mansion a few yards along Ocean
Avenue - now a sort of shrine for tourists. Another stroll took us to Lincoln
Road, a pedestrian mall full of fabulous shops and outdoor cafes. This was very
much new Miami, and demanding with it, but after years of travel I have found
that the best way to explore cities overdosing on change is from the stable base
of a familiar, comfortable hotel. Perhaps The
Raleigh will become for me - like
the Regency in New York, the Bel-Air in Los Angeles and the Hessischer Hof in
Frankfurt - another oasis of calm in the midst of 21st-century urban turmoil. I
hope so.
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