The Dylan had been on my "to stay at" list based on several articles and hip hotel book inclusions its Alchemy Suite had garnered. The first night's rate was $275; the second night's rate was $325. Both seemed high, but since the only other available hotels were major chains near the convention center for close to the same price, I booked.
I arrived at the hotel around 7:30am, after a red-eye flight from San Francisco. As an architecture buff, a key selling point was that The Dylan formerly housed the Chemists’ Club, and much of the original details from the 1903 Beaux Arts structure were preserved, including the 11-foot ceilings in the guest rooms. The lobby, with its chocolate and ecru, spare, elegant seating, and minimalist floral displays, and the ornate doors to the restaurant, with its gorgeous fireplace, looked promising enough, but I was about to learn that that was the only boutique aspect of the hotel.
Upon check-in, no one offered to help me with my bags, which, in retrospect, I should have taken as a sign of things to come. I let myself into my room and started exploring the amenities. The advertised robe and slippers were absent. The electrical outlets on the desk didn't work. The TV didn't get Comedy Central or MTV. AND the "heater" aggressively blew cold air. I searched every surface for 10 minutes, trying to find the also- advertised "individual climate control." After my fingers had entered their very, very cold, pre-blue stage, and I had wrapped myself in the comforter, yet still had goose bumps, I phoned the front desk to inform them of this problem. They seemed irritated at me for bringing it up, but half an hour or so later, an engineer arrived. He tinkered around with it, never apologizing for the inconvenience or admitting that there had been a problem with the heater. As he went out the door, he said, "Did you want it a little hot or a lot hot?" "I don't know. Somewhat hot. Not cold like it was before. Seventy degrees." "OK," he said, and left.
It appeared that he set it on "sweltering". Despite the 11-foot ceilings and heat-losing windows, the room got so hot by bedtime that I slept with only a sheet on the bed and still was hot and sweaty. I kept my mouth shut. Besides, after the first day, one phone stopped working completely, while the other would no longer call the front desk or any of the other pre-programmed numbers.
The only toiletries were a shampoo/conditioner combo and a body wash. No q-tips, cotton balls, body lotion, or other typical boutique hotel amenities.
At any other time of the year, with hotel rooms more readily available, I would have checked out the first night. When you are staying in a "hip hotel" in the over $200/night range, you expect much higher caliber service and amenities than the Dylan delivered on my visit. Next time, I'll stay at 60 Thompson.