A few weeks ago, while the Algonquin was still closed for renovations, we passed by the hotel. The front door was open, so we walked in.

The lobby was a construction site. But looking beyond the drop cloths and ladders we saw what we’d always seen – dark wood-paneled walls, stoic wood columns and hand-painted sconces straight out of the Edwardian era.  As we scampered out, a workman yelling that we didn’t belong there, we smiled.  It was clear the Algonquin hadn’t gone minimal or modern or been reimagined by Philippe Starck. Maybe they’d even keep the cat. Read more