Last week I stayed at the CitizenM hotel in New York which
was, pound for pound, one of the worst hotels I’ve ever stayed in. Imagine if
you can an achingly pretentious multi storey version of those Formula1 hotels
in France. In place of porters, concierges, bellboys and all the traditional
personnel one might associate with a hotel you are ‘greeted’ by a couple of IT
assistants in i T- shirts lounging at touch screens. Once a swipe card has been
dispensed by The Machine you are pretty much on your own.
Thrice rejected as the venue for the North American Free
Style Cat Swinging Contest it offers the smallest hotel rooms I think I’ve ever
seen. A large bed is flanked by two walls and a window with possibly the most
mediocre view in the city. If you had difficulty checking in and are not adept
at using an i-pad you are in some difficulty as one is provided on a bedside
shelf and operates pretty much everything in the room. I would assume that many
computer illiterate guests have been found frozen to death having fallen asleep
in an air conditioned gale.
There is no bathroom as such but a translucent oval pod small
enough to simultaneously have a shit, shave and shampoo. The pod did, however, have
adjustable mood lighting so if your idea of a big night in New York is lying on
an oversized bed changing the colour of your toilet with an i- pad this could
be the place for you.
Bizarrely this failed edifice of hipsterdom is located within
what must be the most uncool ten blocks of New York – the trashy flashy canyons
of ‘Theatreland’ north of Times Square. It might be less incongruous if it were
in Tribeca, SoHo or wherever in New York knobheads consider groovy in any given
week. As it is it seems hard to reconcile its style pretensions with its
location on 50th off Broadway. Mid-town looks sound on a map but
unless you want to go to the theatre twice a day (which would be going some at
around a hundred bucks a pop) it isn’t really convenient.
That said the CitizenM is convenient for three subways- two
with trains and one which sells those smelly sandwiches just beyond the adjacent adult shop and 'gentleman’s club' . Walking from the hotel involves thrusting your way
through crowds and the general ambience after dark is Bladerunner with Burgers.
That general vibe can be vicariously enjoyed from what the hotel boasts as its
21st floor rooftop bar. That would be great if it were not
completely surrounded by buildings on not less than 60 floors. What view there
is gives a fleeting glimpse of Blackpool down through mediocre high rise
buildings. A notable feature of the rooftop bar is the only surly bar
staff left in New York. All the good ones are working elsewhere for the mandatory
20% tip expected for simply filling a glass and advising you to have a good day.
I chose this hotel because it had the best rating on
Booking.Com. Mea Culpa. Having skipped the small print as usual I got stuffed on
arrival for taxes on top of the figure advertised by Booking.Com and, as is
frequently the case, the general impression is that any discount offered by
Booking.Com pretty much ensures you’ll get one of the worst rooms available in
the place. The high rating of the hotel on Booking.Com can only be explained by
the sort of nerds who think that a swipe card and a bedside i-pad are the last
word in hospitality.
The next time I travel I shall revert to the services of
Messrs Thomas Cook and ensure that the establishment favoured with my patronage
has a full complement of native bearers to carry my steamer trunks to the
suite.