"The uncanny is that class of the terrifying which leads back to something long known to us, once very familiar." – Sigmund Freud
Dear guest,
you know what I’ve always loved? The trope of the hotel room trashing rockstar.
I don’t know what it is about it. Perhaps the allure for me is the required level of no fucks given that I could never even begin to reach as the quite nervously wired polite young woman that I am.
This, however, hasn’t stopped me from being enthralled with leather, riot, rudeness, glamour, and mess.
What’s great for us considering the setting we are in today (a.k.a your favorite grand hôtel of the internet) is that the backdrop of rockstar extravaganza is often the hotel.
I got to live out these dreams, if only in spirit, during my recent stay at the Bowery Hotel. Get the scoop below.
Welcome to Turndown Service, where we immerse ourselves in an experiential detail or sentiment.
In this letter: rockstar hotel lore and my experience staying at one of the most iconic NYC hotels
The hotel has always been an extension of the stage, where entertainment and hubris can go on well after the last sounding notes of the encore.
The hotel room is the perfect alternate reality that exists outside your regular life. It’s an anonymous space in the sense that it belongs to no one in particular, and at check in, you are free to shed your name, responsibilities, and good judgment.
You could argue, however, that this used to be the case more than it is now. There was a time, not too long ago, when excess in antics was expected and a hotel would not hesitate to fulfill any odd (or illegal) wish at any odd hour of the day.
While we have arguably moved on from the era of the true, reckless rockstar (did our ultra-surveilled, flattened, and smoothness-obsessed society kill them?), there are still properties out there that encapsulate that naughtiness and allow us to live out fantasies of heedlessness.
One such scene: 335 Bowery
The Bowery Hotel was born into this lineage, and feels much older (in a good way) and authoritative as a property than its actual age of 19 years grants it. I personally have been obsesseddd with the place for a long time. It has a very distinct identity, and they do fantastic merch and branded amenities.
I share the love for the place with my queen Addison Rae, who sings the following lines in her song titled ‘New York’:
Black car, pick me up from the airport
Drop my bags at The Bowery Hotel
Same, Addison, same.
Before we get into the vibes, first some history for context.
The hotel is located in an area of Manhattan that used to be filled with the taverns and brothels of Irish and German immigrants, but that had by the 1900s evolved into a full-blown skid row of gang warfare and opium dens that Martin Scorsese drew from for Gangs of New York.
In the 1970s the cheap neighborhood started to draw in artists and creatives, such as Ramones, Patti Smith, Keith Haring, and Basquiat (if you are an NYC neighborhood history enthusiast, I recommend this piece for more info on the Bowery).
In 2007, Sean MacPherson and Eric Goode opened the Bowery Hotel on the site of the former Dry Dock Savings Bank, with a Salvation Army shelter and a city-run methadone clinic across the street. So while the Bowery neighborhood is considered chic and en vogue today, that was not the consensus when the hotel first opened.
My favorite hotels in the world are ones that are almost mythical in the stories and people they host. A Bowery favorite is how Florence Welch, Lykke Li, and Kanye West had a night there in 2012 aka a crazy music history mashup and the hotel room caught fire. The doors of the Bowery are also a celebrity favorite paparazzi backdrop.
Atmosphere fit for a rockstar - me!
The Bowery Hotel is built on my favorite rock n roll star -esque interior staples, including velvet sofas and curtains, dark surfaces, antique Persian rugs, dimmed lights, tassels, and leather. Despite all this, it does not have a nightclub vibe to it. There is no music in the lobby (refreshing!!!!) and service is quiet and understated.
A journalist said the property “feels a little bit naughty, even if you are just there for a work meeting.”
The Bowery in my opinion fully embodies the energy of the neighborhood with its vice, art, danger, glamour. Here are my takeaways in bulletpoints:
Heavy tassel key handed to me
Doorman wears uniform with Chaplin-esque bowler hat
Hallways and elevators are dark
Room is light and airy, a stark but welcome contrast to the moody hallways
The stationery is fantastic - thickest notepad I’ve ever seen and a branded letter set and table calendar
Charmingly rough around the edges service
Incredibly comfortable bed, extra points for a cuddle with Bo the bear
I felt like I lived at the hotel and never wanted to leave
One night as I was getting ready to grab a drink at a Japanese whiskey speakeasy with a friend I think I peaked in life
Felt like a rockstar day in day out
Was BRIMMING with creativity and wrote down book idea after article idea after poem
Newspaper delivered to hang at your door each morning
Warm, no-nonsense hospitality, completely unbothersome
Fantastic lounge mostly reserved for guests with the menu from the adjacent Italian restaurant, everything I had was bomb
All guests were cool and were on missions of their own. I saw a jaw-dropping jewelry collection
Rock n Roll hospitality and hotel mythology
We talk a lot about care in hospitality (and I do too constantly, as you’re well aware). Presence, being seen, being looked after are all near and dear topics to me. But the language that is not often used in this business is the language of permission: permission to be who you are or someone else entirely.
People come to hotels to be released from their routines and reputations, and the carefully curated versions of themselves, and nothing is more fitting for this need than a hotel that is not too serious or pristine or monitored. It is perhaps the inherent uncanniness (remember Freud at the top?) and strangeness of the anonymous space that also makes us allow ourselves different identity and behavior.
I’m a fan of the trashed hotel room and throwing the TV out the window, but as I don’t dare to do that, I find my routine of ordering truffle fries at 2am and writing down poems and novel ideas on the stationery to do the trick. For all this room knows, I’m a legend.
I think we could use a little more recklessness in our lives in general, and I do think we are now seeing the pendulum swing the other way from the pressures of perfection and optimization ad absurdum (re: anti-wellness hotels).
I hope you enjoyed the journey this week, dear guest. If you vibed with this, you’re in luck, because tPH has gone bicoastal and you will receive the LA version of this next Saturday.
Before you go, comment who your favorite band or rockstar is (my forever favorites are Guns ‘n’ Roses, Dire Straits, Pink Floyd, and Led Zeppelin):
Stay tuned 🎸
Emma
You had me at vice, art, danger, glamour in a hotel review, Emma!
Sounds like I need to visit the Bowery