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Hotel Madera manages to be both elegant sometimes strikingly so and down home. Under the Madera’s curb-to-door marquee, a tiny bamboo water garden sits in a simple stone bench. In the nearly lobby-less keeps out the lobbyists sculpted stained glass panels, golden and blue, hang like magnificent petals above angular contemporary chairs. The small sitting area has stacks of news junkies daily fixes. Cold milk and Oreo cookies are nearby if the news is not good. At the stroke of six, for one hour, the lobby morphs into the complimentary wine bar scene. |
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 A long day, stuffed into coach on full coast-to-coast flight, ends at our nation’s capital. In February’s gray and cold melancholy, I arrive at The Melrose Hotel. My spirits match the weather. The staff, cheery and fun, makes the day seem gay. But the only thing I warm to besides the blue and yellow silk that festoons the drapes in my room is the bed. Under a puff of warmth, I tuck between crisp sheets ever so grateful to disappear into a decadent late afternoon snooze.
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The Colonnade makes up one side of the Fairmont’s courtyard gardens. In good weather, the gardens entice one to sit, stroll and dine and even in bad weather they are sweets for the eye. Their local seasonal glories proceed apace: cherry blossoms delicate by wisteria blue and hydrangeas bold. |
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