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Viceroy Anguilla

When I first came across Kelly Wearstler’s latest foray into megahotel decor I didn’t think too much of it, as it just seems to be Kelly’s beach house on steroids. But you can never underestimate the Wearstler’s ability to awe and inspire. There are some wicked fascinating details in here — some really good and some just really weird. Let’s have a look.

With a neutral palette and signature mix of natural materials and bold forms, the Anguilla is 100% Kelly.

Complete with seaweed luxe lighting and a befedoraed concierge.

Sconces mounted on patinated mirrors? Why, yes.

Crystal lamps and burly wooden finishes? Mmm hmm.

Karl Springer boner.

Marble marble on the wall…

Who is the fairest of them all?

I want to get drunk here.

And then retreat to my lounge, away from the riff raff.

That’s my ocean, bitches.

Yes, all of it.

So most of the weirdness comes from this creepy interloper who keeps trying to gank my room.

Ok, and maybe those lamps are a little hangman’s noose, too.

Happy Tuesday!

[Kelly Wearstler, Viceroy Anguilla]

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Serenity Now

Ok dudes, I’m really not one to complain and in general do my best to keep it ‘tril but I have to level with you, this past week has been the hardest week of parenting thus far.  Without going into too much detail I’ll tell you it involved a stomach virus (baby), separation anxiety and a daddy that had to work all weekend.  Today is all about horizontal design.  No high ceilings or soaring beams.  It’s low, quiet, and, preferably, includes water.  Google, take me away

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If I can dangle my feet out this window great.  If I can jump out and swim at the sound of a baby cry, even greater.  PS the baby is inside, I’m not swimming to him, I’ve hired help to handle that in this scenario.

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I could also make myself available to relax in this location.

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Ok, so no water here but I feel like I can curl up in this bed and sleep for at least a week.  I am also ready to gamble hard money that the world’s most insane pool is just outside the window.  The pool boy probably isn’t too rough on the eyes either.

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I will substitute the fantasy pool in the above scenario for this Croatian lake, which is quite possibly the only lake in the world I would be willing to swim in.  Have you seen most lakes?  Gross.

And finally, what I really, truly want, more than anything else in the world is to stay somewhere like this.  My number one life goal is to spend some serious time at a resort with rooms off a dock over the water.  Tidal wave be damned, it’s really the only thing on my bucket list, which, as previously discussed, doesn’t really exist and if so would be called something different.

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I’d Rather Be in Mexico

Despite holiday promises of renewal and rebirth, this weekend was full of snot, wheezing, and bad takeout food. Thanks, Jesus. Oh yeah — and we put a bid in on our dream house, only to lose out to one of the TWENTY SEVEN other bidders on the property. So I’m taking the rest of the day off to baby my sick baby, and to lick my own wounds. (And maybe to start practicing my prayers.)

I sincerely hope your weekend was better than mine. But if not, feel free to join me on a virtual vacation to Cuixmala, a luxury resort on the Pacific coast of Mexico.

I know — it looks pretty shabby. Let’s check out the rest of the place and see if we can handle it (or if it can handle us).

Dudes, I am off like a prom dress.

Who’s with me?

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Tree Hotel

I have always always loved tree houses.   I especially love children’s tree homes in suburban neighborhoods.  I love the idea that something so primitive as  living in trees has found a niche in 21st century middle America.  Of course, I also really love a good design hotel, so OK, I probably love a tree house hotel for it’s sex appeal alone more so than your run-of-the-mill suburban kid’s club, which is why I would be willing to ignore my no-travel-35-weeks-into-pregnancy rule if only I had the cash money to fly to Sweden to stay in this joint:

Behold, the Tree Hotel.  With 7 distinct tree cabins, and a bunch of designy tree stuff, it almost makes the outdoorsy-only amenities worth suffering through.  (A 6 hour nature trek is their top summer excursion?  Maybe this place should get a tree pool and some tree cocktails)

Anyway, I’m never going to make it here so we’ll fantasize about the rooms only

This is what the inside of the mirrored cabin (above above) looks like.  Apparently you can climb up a ladder to look out that window.  This is where the tree cocktails may not be the best idea.

Leave it to the Swedes to call this cabin the blue cone.  Whateves, there’s still a good chance I would pick this one.

The UFO cabin

And the Birds Nest, which has a lovely Tim-Burton-meets-Burning-Man quality.  But I dig it.

So, which one would you dudes stay in?

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GoGo Soho

Did I really get home from Hawaii only nine measly days ago? Because I could swear that I am already in desperate need of a getaway… apparently, funerals and sick babies aren’t that relaxing. Who knew? Sadly, the vacation days are all tapped out and our bank account is circling the drain, so I’m not going anywhere — unless you count sitting on our patio in sweltering 100 degree heat “going somewhere.” Which I most certainly do not.

But enough about that sob story. Let’s talk about Berlin. No, not the band (though they really take my breath away). Berlin, the city.

Doesn’t Berlin just seem like it would be the mostest? All kick ass German philosophy, with a little fringy Euro flair to soften the hard edges. Because there’s no need to be brutally serious all the time — even Nietzsche needed a little break from the angst (that syphilis didn’t come from nowhere, right?). Obviously a stay at the at the Soho House in Berlin would bring some sweet relief. Not that they have syphilis there, or anything.

No sir, all the Soho Houses are high class, high dollar establishments, available to an exclusive members only cadre of rarefied beings. All except for the newly opened Soho House Berlin, where 40 rooms are available to us regular folk, and for my mental vacay I plan to check in and sit for a spell.

Sit at the poolside bar, I mean. Well, I shall sit until I’ve drunk my fill and then I shall swim.

And then I will lie and lounge on the rooftop terrace, where I will pretend to contemplate the mysteries of life, but really I may just read an In Style or some other pedestrian crap because I’m deep like that.

Oh, and then I’m gonna get my nails did.

With my polished tips in tow, I plan to indulge in a giant meal, which best include some goulash and knodels. Anything else may put me in an existential tizzy, wherein I might be forced to jump off the terrace…

Or I will probably just watch a movie. I like movies.

Then I’m going to get my drink on at this jazzy establishment. I hope the pianist knows how to play some Eazy E.

Tuckered out by my long day, I shall retire to my Deco/Nouveau boudoir, ostensibly to meditate myself into a restful, dreamless sleep.

But more likely I will lie awake all night, wondering how I could fit that giant spider lamp chandelier into my purse. And who is in charge of upholstery at this joint? Holy expensive fortune — it must have cost a ton of knodels. Did I already mention how deep I am?

About as deep as a puddle.

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