These Are Some of Our Editor's Favorite Hotels in the U.S. and Europe

I WANT TO START BY congratulating all the amazing hotels voted by our readers as the best in Asia-Pacific in this year’s Luxury Awards. You can find lists of all the winners here. But since nearly all of this issue is celebration of hotels in this hemisphere—from the hottest openings to the breakfasts that wake you up right and bars that entice you up at night—I thought I’d dedicate this note, for once, to some of my favorite places to stay elsewhere in the world.

First, a story. When I was a kid, Silver Palace was a cavernous restaurant on the Bowery, in Manhattan’s Chinatown, rammed on Sundays with hundreds of chattering tables and clattering dim sum carts. It was one of two places we were most likely to go for family wedding banquets—including the really raucous one in 1989 of my aunt Maggie and uncle Jim. When I grew up and moved to New York, I walked past Silver Palace regularly, and in the back of my mind I clocked it each time, those fun, old family memories flitting by in an instant.

One day, it wasn’t Silver Palace anymore and I realised I was heartbroken. Then, a few years ago, I learned a hotel had gone up in that spot. In a city famous for its hotels, Chinatown always suffered from a distinct lack of them. And now, in a glam, glassy tower, Hotel 50 Bowery pays its homebase tribute with playful paintings, Chinese-inspired colour schemes, partnerships with neighbourhood restos and cafés, and insane views—particularly from the double-balconied The Crown roof bar—of half the city and New Jersey, too.

Another NYC hotel I revisited recently is The Gansevoort, a symbol of the Meatpacking District, with a rooftop pool everyone clamoured for 20 years ago but you could only access with a room key. It’s one reason we booked it for my best friend’s bachelorette back then, and remains a rare luxury in the city. After a gorgeous refresh, The Gansevoort is now full of original pop art and see-and- be-seen F&B. My suite had slick furnishing in navy and greyscale, a lululemon workout mirror, and a Juliet balcony that looked down on Soho House’s famously overcrowded pool. The sunsets over the Hudson remain iconic.

As does breakfast over Hyde Park. The original Mandarin Oriental in London sits regally between Harvey Nichols department store and this verdant patch of the city. My stunning suite’s Fifth-Avenue-classic stylings were awash in olive and aubergine that complemented the leafy views out two long walls of windows. Such a full nature immersion is so hard to find in urbanity.

Yet on the outskirts of Istanbul, I did find another in the surreal backdrop of the cerulean Bosphorus Sea out the window of my room in Six Senses Kocataş Mansions. Less a hotel than a residence, here you’re a local living above the coolest brunch spot (the courtyard joining two historic Ottoman buildings that make up this 43-room confection is always bustling), with access to a clifftop hammam echoing Cappadocia and to downtown Istanbul via sail by private boat.

You might not think it’d be as easy to feel at home in a gilded palace built in 1758 on the stately Place de la Concorde in Paris. But Hôtel de Crillon is lushly cosy and has service in spades. Yep, they know your name—like at other Rosewoods, pillowcases are personalised. But how many hotel concierges’ names do you still know? Well, a huge merci to Alex Greco, who solved a minor rainy- day birthday hiccup with VIP tickets to my favourite museums and a table at his friend’s superb restaurant, in an ancient turret atop a huge catacombs wine cellar.

At Hotel 50 Bowery, my massive, loft-like suite managed to harmonise modern residential with old- school industrial: distressed oak floors, concrete walls, white-tile bathroom walls. Best of all, I could see east across the Manhattan Bridge to my best friend’s co-op and southwards to my grandmother’s old apartment. Silver Palace had turned into my memory palace. And isn’t that what the best hotels are supposed to do?

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