... that's what they'd say. Between the Waldorf and the Astoria.
Not sure if Peacock Alley has a quiet hour. The buzz flows through, constantly, whether from the eight-dollar cuppa coffee or the eighteen-dollar cocktail. There's a unique sense of being in the Waldorf=Astoria when you walk through the lobby of the Waldorf=Astoria. Take stock. Feels like the Drake, only statelier. It's a presence, of history. Wood-paneled walls, Art Deco everything, mahogany, marble... the embodiment of a charm and sophistication of an era gone by. Never to return? Who's to say. Labor too expensive and aesthetic rides in back these days. Now we trade on functionality. Reduction. I need it faster. I need it cheaper.
Not sure if Peacock Alley has a quiet hour. The buzz flows through, constantly, whether from the eight-dollar cuppa coffee or the eighteen-dollar cocktail. There's a unique sense of being in the Waldorf=Astoria when you walk through the lobby of the Waldorf=Astoria. Take stock. Feels like the Drake, only statelier. It's a presence, of history. Wood-paneled walls, Art Deco everything, mahogany, marble... the embodiment of a charm and sophistication of an era gone by. Never to return? Who's to say. Labor too expensive and aesthetic rides in back these days. Now we trade on functionality. Reduction. I need it faster. I need it cheaper.
The Waldorf is frozen in time, anchored ironically by the gilded clock in the center of the lobby, singing its tune on the quarter hour. Our first stop each night was Sir Harry's. Clink Shake Pour Salud went that song, and a lot more regulalry than every fifteen minutes. We'd emerge, past the debutantes and the photographers and the black ties and the hecklers* and beneath the chandelier and through the revolving door and into the cold New York night. The wind stings your face ever-so-slightly and your eyes focus and Park Avenue... back into the spinning world.
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Upside down on Park Avenue. Rather indicative of how I felt each morning, both mentally and monetarily. |
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From my window... 49th and Lexington |
*I may be the last to have figured this out, but did you know that half of the world-class heckling duo Statler and Waldorf is named for the hotel; indeed, Waldorf's wife is named Astoria. So there's your party trick for the weekend.
THE WALDORF=ASTORIA
301 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10022
212/355-3000
Waldorf Astoria Clock photo via: New York Daily Photo; Statler and Waldorf sketches via: Muppet Wiki (seriously).
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