Royalton Hotel

Hotel description

A lot has changed since the Royalton opened in 1988, both inside and outside its walls. This is arguably the original boutique hotel, having spawned a legion of imitators, many of which sought to duplicate the formula of stylish-enough bedrooms atop stunning public spaces — both, in the Royalton’s case, by Philippe Starck.

Now, after a much-touted remodel, most of what was Starck about the Royalton is gone, starting with the famous larger-than-life lobby. These days that sort of theatrical ostentation is out of style, and what’s in is the understated, clubby luxury look that you’ll see here. The palette is dark and masculine, full of brown leather and brown wood, and the atmosphere is more discreet than it used to be, more members-club than fashion-show.

The rooms have been updated as well, though perhaps more subtly — they’re oversized, light and airy, in contemporary neutral colors against a backdrop of mahogany paneling that’s calculated to put you in mind of a cabin in an old-fashioned steam liner. Bathrooms, though, go beyond what you’d see on a ship, or in many hotels for that matter; five-foot circular Roman baths are pure indulgence, and still a bold choice in a nation of showerers.

And the place is still abuzz, albeit more quietly; the new Royalton is less stage set, more hotel. Brasserie 44, the new version of the Royalton’s restaurant, is the sort of place that stands on its own, as a restaurant — it’s run by John McDonald, from Lever House and Lure Fishbar, and it’s cozy and unpretentious, two things you can’t accuse most hotel restaurants of being.