The Standard

I love a brand that messes with my mind. The Standard hotel in New York City is that brand. It’s located in the Meat Packing District. Each room boasts floor to ceiling windows with spectacular views. 

You walk through a bright yellow revolving door. Four people were standing at a check-in counter made of rock. They each had a MacBook Pro. After I initialed the rate, check out date and smoking policy (don’t even think about it), I was presented with my key. 

He opened up this leather folio, and on a note pad stamped it like a passport – with the words Welcome to New York. He then wrote my room number in the stamp – as if it were the date. He gently closed the folio and handed it to me. 

My jaw dropped open and I just said “Wow, that is pretty damn cool.” He replied, “I know!” And then I was off to the elevator. It was pitch black as I entered and on either side video-mural-pictures were moving to ethereal music piped in. I was hypnotized. Ding. 12th floor. Stark white hallway with light grey carpet. My room number was mounted on the door  with white plastic numbers that filled it from top to bottom. Cool. Inside the folder was a jet black key, and their logo “The Standard” was printed on it upside down. You figure this out when you insert it in the lock. 

The bed was white. The bathroom was red tile. The walls and ceiling were wood. The windows looked out over the Hudson River and the Empire State building. Wow. The price? $225.00 a night plus tax. The leather folio, complimentary.

Seeing a brand brilliantly executed. Priceless.

Thanks New York for showing me The Standard.