Hotel Elysee


It was our final night in NYC, and we were checking into Hotel Elysee on Park Avenue before going out to enjoy some more of the Big Apple vibes. We'd only been in town 3 days, and yet somehow, it seemed an eternity had passed. So much had occurred, shifted, and transformed in the last 72 hours that I knew – somehow profoundly within me – that nothing would ever quite be the same, the least of all New York City.

I'd done a lot of thinking during the days leading up to my trip. A lot of strange things were happening in my world, and it seemed two different realms – one firmly planted in reality, the other lofty in the unknown – were beginning to converge.

I was being woken up in the night in my apartment in the West End by some elusive presence. Some would call it a ghost or a spirit, while others would prefer to refer to it as "negative energy" or just ignore or shun the idea altogether. Some really scientifically-inclined individuals would justify the occurrence by telling me it was just my liver detoxing – around the same time, every single night.

And as much as I wanted to accept this as the truth during the scared, dark, early morning hours when it would be completely inappropriate to call someone or knock on my neighbours door, so I had no choice but to endure it alone, I couldn't deny that eery sense that kept me awake.

What was going on?

I had a friend come into my apartment to sage away the bad energy. And for a moment, I even considered throwing away my Tarot cards. But I was leaving in two days, anyways, so I let them be.


At Hotel Elysee, we stepped off the bustling streets of Manhattan and into – what seemed like – a time vortex. Suddenly it felt like we'd hopped in a time machine and gone back to one of my favorite decades, the 1920s, with all the lavish deep reds and vintage aesthetics one would expect of such a time. My love for antiques had me twirling with joy, and as we settled in that night, I thought about all the people who would have stayed here before us – in such a completely different time.

We slept soundly that night, albeit a couple of interruptions from visitors of another time, and when we woke in the morning, we said the same thing without conversing. Were there three visitors in the room? An elderly woman, a tall gentleman, and perhaps another?

We might continue to wonder at those questions, but our stay at Hotel Elysee – in addition to our brief but riveting visit with a New York City palm reader – confirmed one thing for sure:

Some things can be read, rather factually, in the New York Times, while other things more esoteric will remain (to the masses) a complete and utter mystery.


A thank you to Hotel Elysee for having us – we had a wonderful and enlightening stay!

What I'm Wearing:

PJ Set: La vie en Rose