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In September 2013, style superstar Ian Schrager turned his attention to a worn-out century-old hotel on the tatty Tottenham Court Road end of Oxford Street in Fitzrovia—convenient to nearly everything by foot—and opened the doors on an instant hotspot. On the surface, it would seem to be a calculated mix of classy and irreverent—look closely and you’ll see those photographic homages to Rembrandt depict a girl wearing toilet paper rolls around her ears—but look deeper and you’ll find a carefully run hotel where staff is more friendly than their current cool status should dictate. Rooms don’t slouch a bit—faux fur sculpturally strewn on the foot of your bed, bedside speakers to which you can stream music from your phone—although the dark wood panel decor may remind you of a 1970s basement rumpus room. Beds piled with softness and bathrooms stocked with every convenience from robes to cotton swabs. It’s also—this must be said—the place to stay if you love hot guys, since the porters and desk staff seem to have been hired as much for the cornflower blue of their eyes as for their service credentials. Getting a reservation for chef Jason Atherton’s bistro-inflected Berners Tavern, tiled with salon-hung images like something out of Manet, is much easier if you’re a guest, but the adjoining lobby bar (get the Elderflower Power Sour cocktail) is a scene for one and all. It’s run by Marriott.