Park Hyatt Chicago
Chicago, Illinois

Curled on a cushioned window seat, I study Chicago’s water tower, a gothic survivor of the great fire. Beyond the treetops’ greens, boats sail Lake Michigan’s blues. Imagine this scene in a summer’s storm or a winter’s blizzard—how delicious it would be to weather Chicago’s storms snug in such classy surroundings.

It’s those dreamy black and white photos that put me in this mood: prairie skies, foggy nights, beaches at high noon, sailboats at sunset, big buildings, ivy walls and small gargoyles—Chicago in all its moods. The Park Hyatt commissioned four of Chicago’s finest to create this striking collection for its flagship hotel.

I hail from near here, and the Park Hyatt speaks to my Midwestern roots. It’s artistic yet functional, grand and down-to–earth at the same time. The lobby is rich with cherry wood paneling and the hazy grays of Milan’s Piazza del Duomo, by the well-known German painter, Gerhard Richter. The Italians say Milan’s Duomo is the finest in Italy. Furniture doyens say Eames and Van der Rohe chairs—in the lobby and adjoining library—are the finest in contemporary design. The library is stocked with papers to get the news of the day and has cabinets of ancient fossils and entrancing crystals to put that news in perspective.

My little house on the prairie, Park Hyatt’s Lake Suite, is neither little, a house nor any longer on a prairie. Never mind, it is decidedly the type of home to which I’d happily become accustomed. Prairie tones of grays, sages and creams are rendered in the luxury of leather, chenille and linen. The slubbed wall paper of mohair and linen is the color of prairie grasses.

Here, I feel more like the refined, well-organized woman I think I should be. Mornings find me sitting quietly sipping an excellent cup of tea made from loose—never bagged— tea, provisions from the suite’s kitchen. Rather than standing in line for latte at Starbucks, grabbing a Tribune and racing for the bus, the Tribune waits outside my door and my business associates are coming here. Thanks to the butler my business suit is properly pressed and my shoes shined.

Women—like I think I should be—are private people, so just off the foyer a cloak room and a half bath are available for visitors. I can just close the hallway door to my private quarters. So, I don’t bother jamming my paraphernalia into one of the suite’s two closets or hiding my drying stockings in the shower.

The suite’s dining room is perfect for breakfast and then we can spread our project out on the big dining room table and stand around discussing it over coffee. Ticklish issues are, of course, best handled while sitting. So I’ll suggest we make ourselves comfortable on the couch and easy chairs when I plan to bring those issues up.

Should any of us need to communicate with anyone else, darn near anywhere else, my desk holds techno accoutrements galore—high speed data ports, two-line phones, a fax—and down the elevator the efficient business center has more.

Endearing to my Midwestern roots, local and credit cards calls are free—a service where Park Hyatt, nearly alone among five stars hotels, compares favorably with Motel 6. The stamps already affixed to the postcards at my desk means I’ll actually send them. Not large, but thoughtful deeds that are the measure of this superior service.

Work accomplished in such a genteel manner, I’m inclined to a little revelry. I debate my options:

a) Call the butler to help plan a soiree for old friends. With au courant and tasty goodies from Park Hyatt’s NoMI, my butler’s discrete service and our dramatic views, it would be quite the shindig.

b) Dine at NoMI—perhaps with an old flame. Starting with dry martinis perched on the eel skin bar stools, we then wander over to the wine cellar’s Venetian glass inlaid floor to browse for a rare vintage. Then, seated within the wide arch of NoMI’s window-wall, the water tower flaunts her golden evening lights. Musing over Chef Sandro Gamba’s creative menu, we’ll daintily devour his Scottish Smoked Salmon Tart with Horseradish crème fraîche and Macerated Mango. Gamba, born in France, spent his youth in his father’s bakery and grandmother’s bistro. When picking him as one of America’s best new chefs of 2001, Food and Wine magazine said, "his French culinary credentials are the best around, but he’s not afraid to serve sushi…"

c) Splash to the spa for a swim in the big lap pool. Lounge in the designed-for-the-spa chairs, sip on fresh pear and lemongrass juice and contemplate the spa’s spread of indulgences. Post splurge, I could soak up this vintage warm summer night with a glass of wine under the birches of NoMI’s outdoor terrace.

d) I could even, heaven forbid, go out on the town. A wander downstairs puts me at Armani’s doorstep and it’s only a stroll to Michigan Avenue and the lake. Or, I might see if the Mercedes—Park Hyatt’s courtesy car—can take me to Chicago’s House of Blues.

e) Or, I could light the candles around my prodigious marble bath, slide open the cherry wood panels and soak contemplating Chicago’s skyline. Then, I’ll sip champagne, slip Room with A View into the DVD player and sink into my featherbed lush with linens and down pillows. Dinner is on its way. Guess I’d rather just stay in my "little house."

Whatever you do, I expect the Park Hyatt Chicago will make an impeccable prairie home for you, too.

LINKS WITH ATTITUDE

Park Hyatt Chicago's web site. 

The City of Chicago always has lots of interesting things happening, check it out.

Schedule for The House of Blues.