Thomas O'Brien of Aero Studios, based right here in Soho, designed this hotel to be the last word in urban sophistication. What he came up with are deadpan neutral color palettes—all browns and grays with clean-lined furniture—with suede headboards and velour pillows adding a dash of sensuality. Rooms can be small, and most have showers only; ask for one of the few rooms with a tub when booking. Of course, you could go ahead and request the duplex-penthouse Thompson Loft for soaring ceilings, a four-poster bed, a stone fireplace, and two private roofdecks for panoramic views. In summer, the semiprivate rooftop bar A60 presents the same glorious prospect. In the lobby, there's the showy, romantic Thombar and a very good Thai restaurant, Kittichai, which draws a glamorous crowd.

Owing to a location in mostly residential Murray Hill, Manhattan's first Kimpton hotel is too far north to share in downtown's cachet and too far south to be in the thick of Midtown's bustle. It's best suited to travelers looking to be close to—but not amid—the action. In 2003, the 205 guest rooms profited from an overhaul by Jeffrey Bilhuber, whose celebrity clients have included David Bowie and (gasp) Anna Wintour. The results: streamlined blond wood furnishings, woven wallpaper, and silky cream and celadon fabrics. Plasma TVs, L'Occitane products, and irons round out the in-room extras, though you'll probably have to do-si-do around your partner to get around an open ironing board in the small rooms. There's Wi-Fi throughout, and two laptops are available for guests' use in the dimly lit, minimalist lobby, with its modular leather sofas. Silverleaf, the on-site tavern, is a good place for a martini (or a light meal: grilled salmon, crab cakes), but strolling four blocks north, to tip a few at Grand Central's Campbell Apartment, is an equally excellent idea.

A great find and your only real option for staying in the West Village. These nine rooms split between two Hudson Street brownstones are full of romantic touches—some have four-poster beds with canopies, hand-painted armoires, and exposed brick walls. What they don't have is an elevator, so be prepared to climb (four of the rooms are located two flights up). This is partly why the Ambassador room is so popular—besides being the largest, and being equipped with a kitchenette, it's also on the ground floor. The Garden Room, another favorite, is one flight down, on the same level as a small, private garden and a gurgling fountain. When selecting your room, bear in mind there's an architectural quirk: Rooms fronting sometimes noisy Eighth Avenue have en-suite bathrooms; those facing the back have a bathroom that's private but located across the hall. (The courtyard-facing Ambassador is the exception to this rule.)

The flophouses and drug dens of Bowery past have long been supplanted by boutiques and bars, but the new occupants still pay homage to the neighborhood's rakish past. Take the Bowery Hotel, which opened in 2007. Bathrooms with marble slabs and brass fixtures feel old-money New York, but in some, tubs-for-two sit next to exhibitionist floor-to-ceiling windows. The lobby bar's worn leather club chairs and salvaged church pews hold a rotating cast of models and media types under the influence of two-too-many vodka gimlets. But if the Bowery Hotel is a scene, it's a relatively unassuming one. Italian restaurant Gemma has all of the culinary chops of its downtown peers with none of the pretension (prices are reasonable and reservations a breeze for hotel guests). The decadent neo-boudoir style of the common spaces carved sandstone fireplaces, velvet-covered stools, fringed lampshades is offset by the more modern edge of the 135 rooms, with floor-to-ceiling factory windows and pillowy white-on-white beds. You won't get coddled at the Bowery eye-candy doormen are often too busy flirting to actually open the doors, and there is nary a spa, gym, or pool to be found but you will find a good-looking crowd and a comfortably lush place to lay your head when you're ready to escape it.

Close to the Seventh Avenue showrooms and just across the street from Bryant Park, where New York fashion shows are held, this modern hotel is popular with the style crowd—book very, very far in advance for September and February stays. As designed by British architect David Chipperfield, the rooms are lean and sharp with blond wood furniture and Tibetan rugs. Thankfully, a bedside sound machine helps block the rumble of midtown's streets. Expect to spot models and model wannabes everywhere, from the hip L.A. restaurant transplant Koi, located in the lobby, to the basement Cellar Bar.

The most pedigreed of the Upper East Side hotels, this grande dame opened originally as a residential hotel in 1930, with composer Richard Rodgers as its first occupant. Over the years, every president and practically every celebrity and world leader has checked in behind its white-glove wall of discretion (so leakproof that only many years later did word come out about JFK's trysts with Marilyn Monroe here). Café Carlyle, longtime home to the late Bobby Short, still draws a stellar lineup of cabaret talent (including Woody Allen and his band on the Mondays he's in town), while Bemelmans Bar, one of Manhattan's swankiest boîtes, is enlivened by Loston Harris, a suave, talented pianist and singer. The 122 rooms, however, are a mixed bag: As designed by late society decorators Mark Hampton and Dorothy Draper in Empire and Louis XVI fashion, they're a little stiff and old fashioned, but renovations are underway (the hotel was taken over by the Rosewood group in 2000). The 59 additional suites are not to be sniffed at, with their grand pianos and even grander views of Central Park. Even if playing Chopsticks is the extent of your skill, opt for one of these.

A far more overt attempt than the subtler City Club to bring downtown style to midtown, this 77-room hotel owes its soul to art, with 500 contemporary works exhibited throughout the hotel. In keeping with the theme, rooms are designed as open-plan artists' lofts—rich artists, presumably, to be able to afford such a prime location just off Fifth Avenue. The showiest is a duplex suite with a 750-square-foot terrace. Furnishings are contemporary but not stridently so. Red rugs on polished wood floors and gold or purple velvet seating warm the spaces.

The only public space at this quietly hip newcomer is the sleek, narrow lobby, whose lounge is far too small for entourages, let alone paparazzi. With one bold red parenthesis of a banquette and a few dashes of cushioned benches, it is just big enough for a few people to meet before dinner at adjoining 'BeCa, which has an Italian-leaning menu notable not only for its quality but also for its ample portions and reasonable prices (a dish of gnocchi, $14). Compact as a yacht, the hotel anchors the workaday corner of Church and Duane streets, surrounded by TriBeCa's evolving mix of superb restaurants and old take-out joints, cutting-edge shops and discount clothing stores. Light floods the 45 guest rooms, which tend to be small but quiet. Done in cheerful green chartreuse with blond wood, they display quality details, from faux-stone bath tiles to generous white Mama Bear bedding. The darkly elegant hallways, with glowing silver panels inset in mauve walls, epitomize this fine new property, which clearly—and wisely—values privacy over flash-in-the-pan popularity.

You can feel the city's surging pulse from the moment you walk into I.M. Pei's soaring, minimalist marble lobby. More buzz hums from the power talk overheard at teatime in the ground floor lounge. Always smooth, the Four Seasons service attains an entirely different level here: The concierges can do the impossible, and this being New York City, they are asked to do so on an hourly basis. The 57th and Park location is central-central, and the 364 rooms are bright, with silk-lined walls and furniture of English sycamore. Aim high, if you can: Floors 40 and above have views of either the southern skyline or Central Park, to the north. The two Presidential Suites on the 51st floor, one facing in each direction, have been outfitted by society designer Peter Marino to feel luxuriously residential. And the forthcoming 52nd-floor suite is destined to be the most impressive in New York, with 23-foot-tall windows offering 360-degree views of Manhattan. Even if you're not staying here, come for L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon. The famed Parisian chef's entrée into the New York dining scene (and currently its hottest ticket), offers up casual-but-intricate Mediterranean-style dishes in a black-and-red space.

When a megawatt Hollywood star and one of Manhattan's most famous hoteliers (Ira Drukier of Mercer fame) join forces for a new project in Tribeca, you'd expect a flashbulb spot as sceney as area favorites like Nobu. But when that star is the notoriously private Robert De Niro, a different picture emerges. A night at the Greenwich Hotel feels more like a stay at a cultured friend's city manse. Worn Tibetan rugs cover Italian terra-cotta floors, Taschen design books sit on Moroccan marble side tables, and shabby chic wardrobes contrast with brushed metal consoles. Each of the 88 rooms, which start at 325 square feet, is unique, and the eclectic, well-edited assortment of objets—a Buddha head here, a branch of coral there—give the property a lived-in feel. The one decorative constant? Paintings by De Niro's son, Raphael (and yes, they're good). The Greenwich gives you a local's perspective on the neighborhood: This is more the Tribeca of art-filled lofts and stroller-packed brunch spots than the Tribeca of scenesters and velvet-rope restaurants. The service complements that vibe, feeling at once welcoming and discreet: Check-in is handled in your room, fresh fruit awaits your arrival, and the free minibars are stocked with a mix of healthy Dr. Weil teas and whimsical jars of penny candy, as well as Pellegrino and other goodies. The sprawling Moroccan-tiled bathrooms and eucalyptus-scented products make a shower feel like a trip to the spa (though you can get the full treatment downstairs in the Shibui spa, which surrounds a Japanese lantern–lit swimming pool and lounge). Book a room at the back of the hotel overlooking the peaceful courtyard, where you can take tea beneath latticed vines.

This tall glass box looms symbolically and literally over the changing neighborhood of the Lower East Side, where the rundown streets of tenements that once housed Eastern European immigrants are now home to scores of cutting-edge boutiques, bars and cafés—not to mention a Starbucks. The design here is in sync with the area's other new tenants: monochromatic and modern, with floor-to-ceiling transparent walls that allow the city streets to become part of the design. If you're not careful, they also allow you to become part of the view for your neighbors, particularly in rooms on the lower floors. For shy types, there are wraparound curtains and opaque plastic panels that can be affixed to the window. All 110 rooms have Swedish Tempur-Pedic mattresses and deep Japanese soaking tubs. In the Owner's Suite, the tub is placed directly against the glass bathroom wall for a corner panoramic view. The triplex penthouse is the suite of choice for visiting Gen X and Gen Y celebrities, although the true party room might be 184—it has a shower large enough for 10. No questions asked.

The quintessential Upper East Side residential nest, this collection of 149 rooms and suites is decorated with Asian and European silks, framed prints, and striped drapes. The two penthouses have indoor atriums and terraces and a past guest list that includes Elizabeth Taylor and Princess Diana, both drawn to the hotel's privacy. In contrast to the rooms' perfectly pedigreed style, the watering hole off the lobby, Bar Seine, is pretty wild, a combination of Moroccan and African decor, with animal-print couches, leather floors, velvet drapes, and onyx sconces—a place for Upper East Siders, even temporary ones, to let down their (perfectly coiffed) hair. Yes, that is Robert DeNiro lounging in the corner.

More country than town, the two 1834 brownstones near Gramercy Park at East 17th Street that house this 12-room inn are all 19th-century charm. Each room, along with Lady Mendl's Tea Salon downstairs, is assembled so perfectly with period antiques that you expect Edith Wharton or Henry James to be your fellow guests—instead, you'll often see publishers from Europe. Wrought-iron bedframes, Oriental carpets, curved divans with silk pillows, carved wood paneling, and nonworking fireplaces are the suitably genteel items of design. Junior suites have a separate sitting area—continental breakfast can be taken there or downstairs in Lady Mendl's, where there's also a Wharton-worthy afternoon tea.

Dubai-based hotel group Jumeirah spent $90 million renovating the Essex House hotel on Central Park South after acquiring this Art Deco dowager in 2006. But unlike its opulent Middle Eastern sibling, the Burj Al Arab, the Essex House doesn't aim for seven stars; in terms of price and luxury, it sits a notch below the nearby Mandarin Oriental, Ritz-Carlton, and Four Seasons. That means you can get a handsomely decorated, nice-size hotel room with a direct view of Central Park for $400 or so, well below what competitors charge (check the Jumeirah Essex House Web site for frequent special deals). The renovation preserved and updated the lobby's 1930s elegance, with coffered ceilings, fluted travertine columns, and a striking pair of large Central Park photographs by artist Atta Kim (courtesy of the hotel's artist-in-residence program). Rooms are contemporary, if blandly so (lots of beige), with built-in wood desks, leather chairs, marble bathrooms, and very comfortable beds. High-tech equipment includes flat-screen TVs, Bose iPod docks, and a touch pad–controlled lighting system that's too complicated for its own good (one feature we did like: "stumble lights" that illuminate the floor when you get out of bed). Service is amiable and professional—our room service breakfast arrived well within the promised 25 minutes. The downsides: The modern American fare at the South Gate restaurant is mediocre (though it's worth stopping by for a park-view drink at the bar). Maintenance could be better (a smudge on the sofa, a sticky door, an ugly electrical box hanging from the ceiling). And the 300-square-foot interior-facing rooms can feel confined. Instead, splash out on a 750-square-foot Central Park Suite—we've seen them on third-party Web sites for as low as $850 a night, one of the best deals in town.—Peter J. Frank

New York luxury hotels often fail to deliver the greatest of New York luxuries: downtime. Lobbies can feel so sceney you need a stylist, and restaurants so exclusive even guests can't score tables. Enter the Lafayette House. The East Village hotel has no lobby, no bar, no restaurant. Check-in consists of being buzzed in and taken directly to your room (likely the most interaction you'll have with staff during your stay). The 15 individually decorated rooms have a prewar old-money vibe (lushly upholstered antiques, cut crystal chandeliers, working marble fireplaces) with subtle details from the building's bordello past: a naughty photograph here, a racy art book there. Because there are no common spaces, rooms are relatively self-contained units with coffee makers, flat screen TV/DVDs, Wi-Fi, iPod docks, and carefully selected reading material (think vintage National Geographics, fashion books, and design magazines). Of course, the high-end standard bearers—500 thread-count sheets, designer toiletries by C.O. Bigelow—are all in evidence. The pied-a-terre vibe appeals to those you'd expect to those you'd expect to find at more raucous hotels, from the cast of HBO's quirky Flight of the Conchords to members of the Strokes. Warning: If you're looking to be waited on, look elsewhere (perhaps the hotel's sister property around the corner, the Bowery): The place is only (lightly) staffed during daytime hours. After 11, you pick up your room keys at the bar next door.

The concept sounds gimmicky—the 60 rooms are first categorized according to the Dewey Decimal system by subject (Literature, Arts, Math and Science, and History), then further individualized by subcategory (Astronomy, Asian History, Music, etc.). But it works. The handsome, home-like guestrooms, done up in dark woods with contrasting, cream-colored bedding, offer a diverting selection of books pertaining to their subject; not surprisingly, the "Erotic Literature" room is the most popular, but as the staff amusedly point out, "Fairy Tales" runs a close second. "Love," meanwhile, has a terrace. Apart from the good-looking rooms and appealing public spaces, including a rooftop bar and second-floor book-filled lounge, this hotel, located near Grand Central Terminal, wins points on generosity: Continental breakfast and nightly wine and cheese are free, as are WiFi, snacks during the day, and videos. In this town, that's a steal.

When the 562-room London NYC opened in late 2006, the news that the restaurant was to be headed by Hell's Kitchen antihero Gordon Ramsay upstaged the news about the hotel itself. While Ramsay's considerable talent has (so far) failed to inspire Manhattan's jaded foodies, it's no matter—the real highlight is upstairs, anyway. Instead of cramped city-standard spaces, all of the David Collins–designed rooms are suites. The smallest is 300 square feet, and in most, the parlor leads through French doors to a bedroom with a well-fluffed bed, and then on to a marble- and mosaic-tiled Waterworks bath, complete with rain shower and soaking tub. Book a Vista suite to see above the surrounding office towers and onto Central Park. While the echoing chambers are big, they feel a bit impersonal—better for biz execs, perhaps, than starry-eyed lovers—and the parlor's groovy banquette is more pleasant to look at than to sit on (settle into the rocking chair instead). Room service, which includes dishes such as lobster risotto with mascarpone, is courtesy of Mr. Ramsay (or his staff, at least), but it's more fun to head downstairs to Maze, the powder-blue, 1960s-style lounge. All in all, there is a vaguely British feel about the place—from the dapper chaps manning the door to afternoon high tea—but thankfully they all have much better manners than Mr. Ramsay.

Clubby and intimate—only 23 rooms and 47 suites—with the tiniest of lobbies, this is the hotel of choice for VIPs who want to drop out of sight. Built as an apartment building in the 1920s, the hotel maintains its residential feel with suites laid out and individually decorated as apartments would be—including several with wood-burning fireplaces and terraces. Four specialty suites have individual themes: In warm weather, go for the Garden Suite, which has two terraces, one with a flower garden and a fountain; in colder months, the blue and gold Manhattan Suite, with two sitting rooms, is both cozy and grand.

On the 35th through 54th floors of the Time Warner complex on Columbus Circle, the Mandarin Oriental New York competes with the Four Seasons across town as the best-situated, most modern luxury hotel in the city. But whereas the Four Seasons is cool austerity, the Mandarin is all Asian opulence, starting with the Dale Chihuly crystal sculpture (dramatic but oddly reminiscent of a flock of decapitated flamingos) rising from a moss garden in the middle of the marble and granite entry. Elsewhere, there are framed kimonos on the walls, silver inserts in the floor, and upstairs in the 248 rooms and suites, raw silk bedspreads and pillows in Chinese red and saffron. Elegance and comfort aside, the accommodations can seem small for the price, especially if you're on the building's west side (consolation prize: spectacular sunset views over the Hudson from the soaking tub). The "Central Park view" rooms are sometimes blocked by buildings in front—notably the Trump International Hotel—but that barely diminishes the captain-of-the-universe aura. Go for the corners, particularly the 00 and 16 series suites, for more space and the best vistas. The other prize view is from the shimmering restaurant, Asiate, which serves superb Japanese-inflected food (order the soba noodles with caviar, wasabi crème fraîche, and a poached egg). The hotel's Time Warner Center location leaves you spoiled for other restaurant choices (Per Se, one of the city's top tables, is just an elevator ride away), not to mention shopping and Lincoln Center's jazz outpost under the same roof. But be sure to save time for the Mandarin's other offerings: tea in the lobby lounge, which has a sensational park view; laps in the 75-foot pool, with glass walls overlooking the Hudson; and the 14,500-square-foot spa, an oasis of Asian serenity that makes you forget you're in a city at all.—Laurie Werner; updated by Peter J. Frank

P.S. The Mandarin makes a cameo appearance in our exclusive video, 24 Hours in…New York City.

This Romanesque Revival building, built in 1890 for tycoon John Jacob Astor and later colonized by artists, instantly became Hollywood Central when André Balazs converted it into a hotel in 1998. In the early days of the Balazs era, Leonardo DiCaprio seemed to do all of his interviews in the casual library/living room setup in the lobby. Later, the hotel was the setting for a well-publicized Russell Crowe tantrum in which the actor threw a telephone at a reception desk attendant (to be fair to Rusty, service can be a little spotty). You never know who you're going to see at the Mercer or what you'll see them do. The 75 highly designed yet unpretentious rooms and suites have high ceilings, large windows, and huge, sexy bathrooms; designer Christian Liagre filled them with sharp but comfortable touches like dark wenge wood furniture and banquettes in lilac leather. Some rooms have a working fireplace, and the loft suite on the top floor has enormous arched windows.

A Beaux Arts masterpiece built in 1905—featuring an overlay of Asian style courtesy of its Hong Kong–based parent—the Pen doesn't generally draw as much attention as the others in the luxe group. But it offers a smooth combination of Art Nouveau interiors and top-of-the-line business services, some copied from its Hong Kong flagship. The noise-canceling feature on the hands-free phone, for example, allows conversations in the bathtub; your caller won't hear the water running. Decor is plush and European, with just a few Eastern touches like colored silks. There's also a glass-enclosed pool and an equally popular rooftop bar.

The first hotel to open near the World Trade Center after the September 11 attack, this Ritz was guaranteed the affection of New Yorkers. But it has more than sentiment to recommend it: The rooms facing the harbor have postcard views of the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, plus telescopes to take full advantage—get a corner Liberty Suite for the best views. The lighter wood, fabrics in shades of sage and beige, and contemporary art by about 100 New York artists, including April Gornik and Ross Bleckner, make it fresher than the typical Ritz. The only drawback: If you're not arriving and departing by taxi, car, or the hotel's shuttle service, you have to cross several lanes of traffic and walk a sizable distance to the Wall Street area for the nearest subway. The hotel's uptown sibling is more convenient: a conventionally plush midtown Ritz with stellar views of Central Park and a La Prairie spa.

The setting of this 33-story town house–style hotel on Central Park "could not be better." "Classical rooms" have plush upholstery, brocade drapes, and "huge closets." BLT Market presents a menu of seasonal fish, meat, and cheese from local producers; traditional afternoon tea is served at the Star Lounge. Doormen "make an effort to get to know you during your stay."

(259 rooms)

Tribeca and Thompson hotels both seem to have more stars per square foot than a Diddy White Party (I'll see you a De Niro, and raise you a Jay-Z). Stars perch on the exclusive rooftop decks of Thompson's properties in Soho and on the Lower East Side or throw raucous parties in the penthouse suites. But when the hotel group decided to move into Tribeca, it dialed things back a notch. Playing on the anonymity of "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," Smyth is meant to be more of a refuge than a playground. The concept plays well in the lobby, which feels like a modern reimagining of a London gentleman's club (think tufted leather alcoves, walls covered in pinstripe suiting fabric, and whimsical touches like a collection of vintage tin robots in the reception area). There's a bit of a disconnect between that vibe and the rooms, whose stark white-on-white bedding and walls can feel a bit cold in comparison. Still, the chrome accents, walnut paneling, and Brazilian modernist furniture feel rich and indulgent, as do the Kiehl's body products and 400-thread-count Sferra linens. The bathrooms add a sexy touch with slightly frosted glass showers, exposing the contours of the occupant to anyone in the bedroom. There are subtle nods to stardom—John Sparagana art based on magazine spreads, lighting fixtures that evoke spotlights—but the mood is decidedly understated. If you're over the hotel-as-nightclub experience and want a look at how stars actually live in the city, Smyth is a good place to find out. The only catch? There's currently no restaurant. But call your buddy Bobby and I'm sure he'll slot you in at Locanda Verde. —Colleen Clark

With its 2,000-square-foot penthouse lofts, the Soho Grand, the first luxury hotel in SoHo, is still the most dramatic. Very much in the downtown spirit, these suites look like an art dealer's loft—cool and residential with one-of-a-kind pieces such as zinc screens and vintage chandeliers. The designer, Bill Sofield, quotes rock icon Lou Reed as one of his influences in choosing furnishings, undoubtedly a first. Pick the larger north-facing penthouse for the postcard skyline views. The other 367 rooms have been undergoing renovation—make sure you get one of the new ones—adding flat-screen TVs, expanded closets, and contrasting fabrics in browns and blues. Because the hotel's proprietors also own the pet company Hartz Mountain, cats and dogs have a good deal here, too—a selection of meals on the room service menu, walkers, sitters, and an array of toys at their disposal.

The Soho House is the Meatpacking District's answer to a country club: Membership is exclusive, and only a privileged few ever enter its unmarked doors. The ticket in for locals and visitors alike is to book one of 24 "playpens" (or "playgrounds," as the palatial 950 square-foot suites are called). The large, loftlike rooms are made for mischief with oversized beds, naughty minibars, booming surround-sound, and freestanding tubs-for-two (or three). The decor is eclectic but tasteful: vintage mohair sofas, antique chandeliers, Moroccan poufs, Tibetan rugs. Because many club members use the rooms as crash pads, every imaginable amenity is provided, ranging from luxe lotions and potions from the onsite Cowshed Spa to hair straighteners, media centers, and barware for entertaining. It's easy to mix with the locals in the playful 6th floor restaurant and lounge where fashion designers, bankers, and celebs occupy tufted leather couches and mod egg chairs or crowd the billiards and foosball tables. But the centerpiece is the storied rooftop pool—setting of a famous "Sex and the City" scene—where you can swim with Hugh Jackman or sip cocktails next to Cameron Diaz while overlooking the Hudson River and West Village.

If Louis XVI were alive today and in the market for a New York pied-à-terre, this landmark on 55th at Fifth Avenue is the hotel he'd pick. The gilded, marble-clad lobby and 256 rooms and suites are unabashedly ornate, even after the 2006 renovations. The rooms have been simplified and brought up to date with color schemes of steel blue and green or daffodil and more modern plush furniture, but the crystal chandeliers, elaborate draped canopies, and carved plaster moldings remain—as does the studiedly Old World elegance. The regal Astor Court is still ideal for afternoon tea, and the adjacent King Cole Bar with its famous Maxfield Parrish mural is the place to order a Bloody Mary; it was invented here. There is also a lavish spa, and guests can e-mail special requests to their personal butlers.

Sitting on the intersection of Houston and Allen streets, this new 18-story hotel limns its edgy Lower East Side habitat and the contemporary artists associated with it. Case in point: Each of the 141 rooms comes with a custom light box built into the headboard and showcasing Lee Friedlander photographs; Gerard Malanga's lithographed image of Andy Warhol watches swimmers from the bottom of the third-floor outdoor pool; and the winning Asian-fusion restaurant, Shang (from Canadian super-chef Susur Lee), is decorated with a giant field painting by Peter Halley. As attractive and accommodating as the front desk staff are, even more striking is the lobby wall of delicate black-and-white blown glass. As if mirroring the ongoing gentrification of the Lower East Side, spacious guest rooms manifest the tension between modern luxury and bygone grit: cement ceilings, beaded metal curtains, and exposed wires contrast as well as Sferra linens, Kiehl's products, and floor-to-ceiling windows. The seventh-floor Above Allen, a clubby open-air bar with skyline views, is restricted to hotel guests; its only downside (besides the harsh velvet rope) is the overwhelmingly patterned furniture with orange Stephen Sprouse graphics.

Need further proof of the size of Donald Trump's ego? A couple of years ago, a banner appeared on this hotel taunting guests at the just-opened Mandarin Oriental across the street that the real Central Park view belonged to Trump's customers. After a public lashing, the banner was taken down, but it wasn't an empty boast: His 52-story building does, indeed, block the views of some Mandarin guests. Apart from the vistas—and the thrill of checking into a place owned by the star of The Apprentice—the advantages of staying here will most benefit business travelers. The 167 neutral, comfortable rooms and suites—most of which have kitchens—come with a personal attaché who functions as the guest's very own assistant. There are also a variety of complimentary services (faxes, local calls, pressing, a cell phone). One of the better perks is room service from Jean Georges, the esteemed restaurant downstairs.