Every Man Should Have A Favourite Hotel

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I have a favourite hotel. Actually I’ve got a couple. It’s the sort of hotels that has a coolness to them. Which, to be honest, is rare in hotels. Sure, you could opt for luxury. Go 5-stars. It’s going to cost you however. So what are your options? Well, there are a couple of hidden gems. The Whyte Hotel in Brooklyn is one example. The Ace in Palm Springs. Or if you want to go a little more exotic The Hotel Nord-Pinus in Tangier. But neither of those is my favourite hotel. My favourite hotel is The Michelsberger in Berlin.

It’s situated smack down on the edge of east and west. Not that it really matters anymore. Hipsters will tell you otherwise, but honestly it’s a sham. You cab across the city anywhere. And the city is filled with great little spots, regardless of the east-west dichotomy. What, however, is important about the location is that it’s in the middle of the perfect triangle between legendary techno/drug/everythingisallowed club Berghain, the almost-as-great Zur Wilden Renata and your (new) favourite Sunday hangout spot Club der Visionäre. Places so close you don’t even have to cab. But location isn’t why it’s my favourite hotel. And it’s not about the décor, the people or the rooms either. No, it’s the fact that something always happens at Michelsberger. But I’ll get to that.

You enter through the reception area which is more of a lounge/bar/hangout spot with people aged 25-50, gently lounging on huge sofas built into or around bookshelves, or sitting at tables near the bar working or at the bar itself. Albeit the latter is for the more at-present partying people. The shift from coffee to cocktails happen pretty early in this place. Probably helped along the fact that the bar is open 24/7. In the summer the courtyard is a godsend. With DJs and outdoors serving. A great canopy provides a bit of shade for the scattered crew. It is however quiet in the evenings. So any early morning flights are sure to be caught.

People in this place are from everywhere. It’s a hotel, after all. But you still get the feeling it’s like going through Copenhagen on a Saturday night. Except that everyone could feature on The Sartorialist’s instagram feed. It’s not exactly a place to look and be looked upon. People just are here. And that’s awfully refreshing. No one is overtly interested in judging. No, here we’re all equals. Sipping on our Old Fashions while screening internal scenes of Don Draper’esque coolness. But there isn’t anything Mad Men about this place. It’s more Wes Anderson than anything else. The flat screens on every floor are continuously looping The Big Lebowski. There’s a ping-pong table in the courtyard. There’s a little hand-written welcome book in every room. There are cuckoo clocks and old strange post-boxes on the walls. People here are young and beautiful, the setting out of this word and the bar is always open.

My absolute favourite hotel.

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