
You know how at Trader Joe’s, they might not have your favorite exotic food item one day because, perhaps, their suppliers in Chile are striking? And you know how the packaging isn’t fancy and self-sealing, and the cereal doesn’t even come in a box, but the quality/price ratio is really awesome? You know how IKEA makes you assemble every god damned thing yourself, but in the end, you have something that looks pretty cool, for less than you would have spent at Home Depot?
SOMEONE HAS APPLIED THESE PRINCIPLES TO A HOTEL and it’s called The Zetter, and we stayed there in London, and it was good!
Trust me, I’ve always been the type to say, I don’t care what kind of flea bag joint you put me in, I want to see the city (and eat really good food and buy really, really fancy underwear, apparently). But, I went to the Zetter's website (after discovering it through Time Out) and saw that the Evening Standard had spoken and the words they spoke were good.
“The stylishness of Babington House at Holiday Inn prices.”
Running through my head at the exact moment that I read this: I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT BABINGTON HOUSE IS AND I AM READY TO SELL MY VINTAGE CHANEL SCARF TO STAY AT THIS PLACE. (Babington house, I now know, is a country outpost of the London/New York Soho House. If you don’t know what the Soho House is, then that’s just so cute. Can I carry you in my pocket the next time I have to interact with scary fashion people?)
So, yes, as Time Out says, “You don’t get ego-sopping luxuries bumping up your room rates, but stuff you need.”
Indeed. “A great bed, a superb shower and cutting edge in–room entertainment,” according to the website. True. But to be fair, there’s stuff you don’t need too. Adorable, charming, stuff that will endear your friggin pants off. Like beat up, yet oh, so decor-friendly books, looking for all the world like props in a Wes Anderson film. And people, there is nothing like assuming The Anderson Aesthetic to make me get really hot and want to brag about you to the internet.

Will someone please tell me what font that is because I am ready to order my unborn children's birth announcements. Swoon.
And I only tell you of this place's greatness because there are some who will look at my pictures from London (they are coming, I SWEAR--minor technical glitch involving two cameras, one of which is now stateside) and some of you will think, what? They went to London for three days and all they did was shop and eat? Oh no, no my friends, we also hotel'd. HARD. We showed those English candy-assed goose pillows and high thread count sheets HOW US YANKEES DO IT. DAMN STRAIGHT, Y'ALL! We FROLICKED under that “Raindance” shower head and PLAYED! PLAYED GLEEFULLY with all those high-tech nerd gadgets like the ginormous digital music library, ambient pink mood lighting, and vending machine which sold mini G & T's. Well, you know, we played with all that high-tech geek shit as soon as we could figure out how in God's name to make it all work.


Picture #1: What zee fuck?
Picture #2: No. SERIOUSLY. WZF?!!*
(The lighting, it was tricky. Whole can of worms....)
But, in all earnestness, I have my mother to thank for being so spoily
and making those two nights possible (it was a late birthday
present). Her chipping in upgraded us from the 30 GBP sketch-dungeon
I was bidding for (on a website called "Amazing Deals!" that did
NOT provide any pictures and for all I know was located in the midst of
a project of crack houses.)
The Zett-AH, on the other hand, (at, ahem, 110 GBP a night, because apparently the Holiday Inn doesn't come cheap in England), is located in Clerkenwell, a quartier which, according to The Times..."is totally hot right now." In all earnestness, I have to agree.
*Obviously, a frenchified homage to Brando and his beloved Romanian wife, Alex. Her "Vat the fuck?" is truly classic.