Click to see more pictures

The Indian Ocean calmed, lightened to turquoise. The ferry glided past dhows, their ragged sails shaped like shark fins, past nefarious rusting vessels, and into port, stopping in front of a wall of centuries-old buildings, squeezed together and set behind long stretches of powdery-white sand.
“Welcome to Zanzibar. Do you have Typhoid?” The immigration officer asked.
“No.”
“Yellow Fever?”
“Not yet. Which way to the 236 Hurumzi?” I inquired after being admitted.
He pointed at the wall of coral stone buildings.
I walked towards where he pointed, into the heart of Stone Town, the ancient soul of Zanzibar, and was immediately lost in a labyrinth of narrow alleyways lined with curio shops, spice vendors and mosques calling the faithful to prayer. It would be three days before I could navigate this maze without assistance.
After a long day of travel, the 236 Hurumzi, once I did find it, invited me to fall into the island’s languid pace. I dropped my bags, collapsed onto a bed fit for a harem and let the ceiling fan cool me. The three story Hurumzi dates back to the early 1800s and was once the home to a prominent figure in the Swahili Empire. Its 16 private rooms are spacious, and its elegant Indian, Persian and Arab antique furnishings allow you to escape back to the early 18th century when the Omani Sultanate ruled the island. Up a steep set of well-worn and creaking stairs, as if on a pirate ship, was my room’s private, open-air tea room replete with a swing and opium-den cushions, overlooking the rooftops of Stone Town, and the placid Zanzibar Straight beyond.
A few locals and I spent evenings here drinking, cooling off from the day’s oppressive humidity, listening to the town settling in for the night.
“Try and leave”, one girl said to me on one of these evenings. “Try and leave Zanzibar willingly… It won’t be easy.”        

236hurumzi.com

Click to see more pictures

When you live in Vancouver one of the best escapes entails driving south to Seattle to go see a show, and, inevitably, spending the night at the first Ace Hotel in the heart of Belltown. When the Ace in Portland opened three years ago it gave us a great excuse to push the trips by a few hours, rediscover Oregon, and smuggle Stumptown coffee beans back across the border. Rather recently, Alex Calderwood (along with Wade Weigle, Jack Baron and Doug Herrick) opened the Ace Hotel & Swim Club in Palm Springs and the Ace Hotel in New York at 29th and Broadway. Each place is different, and, come to think of it, quite evocative of their environments. This Ace was designed by the New York firm Roman and Williams and includes The Breslin Restaurant (the name of the original SRO hotel) which is owned by Ken Friedman and chef April Bloomfield of Greenwich Village’s treasured Spotted Pig. I love the Ace because it’s simple and comfortable. There’s an Ivy League reading room table, deep couches, Stumptown coffee in the morning, Hendrick’s Gin in the morning, and terrine boards… Feels like home and anyone from the Pacific Northwest might feel esoterically proud when drinking or staying here.

Acehotel.com

Click to see more pictures

I’m not sure what it is that makes a great hotel. I’m often put off by the insincerity of the archetypal design hotel, all stamped out of the same late 20th century design mold, and have instead been looking for something that is more escapist, more withdrawn. I seek individuality, effort and discretion. Hoteliers Eric Goode and Sean MacPherson provide all three in their most recent project, the Lafayette House. The antithesis of the modern boutique hotel, it is maximal design, classical fixtures, and a certain familiarity that harkens back to your grandmother’s house with the living room that you weren’t allowed to sit in. But there is something different here, and it is that same intangible quality that exists in all the projects Eric and Sean complete (the Bowery Hotel, the Maritime Hotel, the Jane, part of the Waverly), a sense of aloof comfort and inclusivity, without a hint of pretension. The fact that downtown art hero Dash Snow could, very sadly, overdose there, while two doors over, Margiela-clad heirs could set up a satellite home base during society season is perfectly thinkable. In fact, storied Saville Row tailor Norton and Sons decamps three times a year from London to take the measurements of New York’s more particular gentlemen in the top floor suite. It is this mix of clientele, this authenticity of experience, and most importantly, this assuring comfort, that makes the Lafayette House the most intriguing hotel in Manhattan, a discreet place to escape to and regain one’s bearings.  

Lafayettenyc.com