Back to the Hudson

New York.  The Sunday Times has booked me into the Hudson Hotel! This was the place that, in 2002, I decided was the worst hotel in the world and wrote two pages in Style magazine to justify my decision. Well, the power of the press seems to have had little effect. I still had to queue to check in, a process that at any other American hotel takes 30 seconds but at the Hudson takes twenty minutes. The staff still give the general impression that their jobs are beneath them. Nothing has been done to alleviate the nastiness of Phillipe Starck's design. Starck always tends to sacrifice useability to looks; at the Hudson he gave up on useability entirely. Perhaps he was depressed. His design not only makes you feel bad about the world - many if not most hotels do that effortlessly - but also bad about yourself. The music in the shocking acoutistics of the lobby is still frightening; I am not being an old fart here, I've checked with the grooviest New Yorkers I know and they also think it's horrible. Anyway, I am here for another 24 hours. I can take it.