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In 2014, a blah mid-level business hotel was remade into the epicenter of Shoreditch Cool. A stay here isn’t about service but about style, since the Ace’s agreeable pretentions have become a “lifestyle brand” for the fashionably impressionable. Pretty people tap away on laptops all day at the lobby workbenches, pretty people dine at its restaurant (Hoi Polloi), which publishes its menu on newsprint just ’cause, and well-dressed drunk people thump away in its basement club until all hours. Accommodation is cushy where it counts (huge beds and bathrooms, room-width built-in window sofas) and styled with self-knowing false irreverence when it won’t affect your comfort (instead of drawers you use plastic crates, as if you’re still in kindergarten, your bedspread is denim, and there’s a guitar—an Ace signature). It’s inauthentic, but fun, and the rates aren’t crazy. If you’ve grown up enough to have some money but haven’t grown up enough to leave all-night partying behind or demand too much of hotel staff, the Ace wins.