The Lap of Luxury

    The St. Regis in New York City. An historic and iconic hotel that is equated with luxury and the finest of the finest. They are not lying. They deliver. Totally. So much so that it was hard for The Husband and me not to go around with our mouths dropped open. Our own personal butler. Really? A bedroom with walls padded with striped silk. Are you kidding?  A marble lined foyer inside our own luxurious suite. Did I mention that we had a doorbell? There were also not one, but two full-size marble everything bathrooms with soaking tubs and what The Husband called the best shower he had ever had. Ever. A sitting room entirely to ourselves. Tea or coffee every afternoon to order delivered by none other than our butler on bona fide Hutschenruther china accompanied by flat silver marked with the St. Regis crest. Oh and I almost forgot...the Bentley town car. Good for only a ten block radius. Gee.


This photo of The St. Regis New York is courtesy of TripAdvisor

The front door

The mail box in the Lobby

    We normally do not travel at this level of luxury. The Husband is a proud carrier of his Reddy Red Card (for The Red Roof Inn). The closest thing we have ever come to this type of experience was our time at the  Hotel Cavalieri in Rome. Both hotels have much to commend themselves, but I would give the St. Regis the Grand Prize, hands down. They are service personified.

   I got really nervous when we were making dinner reservations with the concierge and he said, "Ahhh...I have just the place for your pre-show dinner." I finally had to ask him the gauche question that he probably seldom hears at the St. Regis: "How much do the entrees run?" I don't think anybody talks about money there. They don't have to. But despite the fact that we were staying in the lap of luxury (courtesy of dear friends), we were sticking to the budget. So as soon as I asked that question, the concierge looked at me. It was then that I decided to break the bubble. I told him that we do not live like this...and I gestured to our surroundings. I told him that we were very ordinary people who just happened to be staying at the St. Regis. His eyes twinkled. He understood and booked us into a delicious, but very reasonably priced neighborhood Italian eatery. I breathed a sigh of relief. It made everything so much more enjoyable not to pretend that we were accustomed to this lifestyle. It was a wonderful respite. We ate great, slept great, and loved talking with everyone we met. But we were who we are. No pretending. Middle class Americans living it up for a few nights that are not soon to be forgotten. Here's to the St. Regis. No matter what type of guest you are, when you stay with them you are royalty. I left my crown there. Folks back home wouldn't recognize me if I wore it anyway. And besides, it was a fake.

This photo of The St. Regis New York is courtesy of TripAdvisor

This photo of The St. Regis New York is courtesy of TripAdvisor