Hotel where patrons ‘pay for status’

Press, 29 August 1984, Page 17

Hotel where patrons ‘pay for status’

From

LAURENCE MARKS

in London

One of the world’s most spectacular international hotels, the 285-room Dorchester on London’s Park Lane, has been bought by an American businessmaii, Robert H. Burns, for nearly $6O million. At $210,000 a room, that’s a record. The price raised some eyebrows in the London property business, but Mr Burns, who controls the Hong Kong-based Regent International corporation, is bullish. Europe’s luxury hotel sector is booming, helped by the strength of the dollar.

The Dorchester opened in 1931, and has always been regarded by its wealthy clientele as a bit less formal in tone and (until recently) less theatrical in style than some of the other top London hotels. In those days, the Dorchester had a slightly paunchy opulence, like an Edwardian banker’s mansion. When the Parisian decorator, Alberto Pinto, refurbished the in-

terior for its Arab owners five years ago, he started by dispatching his designers and craftsmen to brighton to look at the Royal Pavilion. The result is an eclectic extravaganza: a 220 ft marbled promenade lined with Corinthian columns adorned with gold leaf; a Terrace Room restaurant in Regency chinoiserie that would have gladdened the heart of George IV; a Grill Room that looks like the banqueting hall of an Andalusian castle. On the seventh floor, a famous jeu d’esprit of the 19505, the Oliver Messel penthouse suite designed in abandoned rococco (including a crustacean lavatory-pan) has been lovingly restored. Messel was a theatrical designer. For King Hussein’s state visit in 1967, a lake was built in the centre of the banqueting hall. For Richard Burton’s 50th birthday party in 1975, the Orchid Room was

wrapped in gold lame, Christostyle. Six new “royal suites” were installed in 1981 to tempt visiting Middle Eastern princes.

The Dorchester has seldom been the favourite of visiting politicians and government officials, who tend to prefer the more traditional splendours of Claridges or the Connaught. In the 19305, it was patronised by the international cafe society that revolved around the theatre and the turf.

Nowadays, its most typical customers are top corporation managers and business consultants. They are undemonstrative men. Idiosyncrasy has largely been replaced by conformity. The staff find this faintly disappointing. They are con-

noisseurs of style — it is, after all, the principal commodity they purvey — and they dearly love the grand manner.

“It’s nice to see style,” says the hotel’s marketing manager. Bill Blamire. “The hotel business is like the theatre. Most of us working in it are frustrated actors. Putting on a lunch or dinner is putting on a show, after all. The staff like a client who knows what good living

This desire was satisfied when the American television producer, Aaron Spellman, and his wife arrived in July with two children, two nannies, and 43 pieces of luggage. When one of his children

ordered a chocolate malted and a doughnut in the middle of the night, the doughnut was baked specially. That’s what they mean by style.

The hotel’s staff is smaller than it used to be: 600 for an average of 450 guests, compared with about 1000 30 years ago. There are 80 cooks. They can produce 400 souffles at a go. Half the guests are from North America, a fifth Middle Eastern. Only 15 per cent are British nowadays. Most of them are more interested in efficient international telephone and telex communications than in ordering rare wines and exotic dishes. Light food and early morning jogging in Hyde Park have replaced the Lucullan fantasies of the past.

Style signifies status, and that’s mainly what brings the business class in. “You’ve got to know

exactly where they stand in the hierarchy of their corporation,” says Bill Blamire, “and make sure that, in terms of prestige, nobody is allotted a room superior to anyone senior to him in the organisation.” “You see them on their way up and on the way down,” says the Dorchester’s Austrian manager, Udo Schlentrich. “sometimes they drop out of sight. They’ve lost all their money. Then, one day, there they are checking in again. They’ve won it all back. “What’s the difference between a bed at the Dorchester and one at the Holiday Inn? Suppose you’re the chief executive officer of a bank and you come back from lunch to find 10 telephone messages on your pad. Which do you call first — the one from the Holiday Inn or the one from the Dorchester? They’re paying for status.” Copyright — London Observer Service.