A Golden Birthday Affair: The Drake.
When one envisions the Drake Hotel in Chicago, inevitably the iconic image of Princess Diana entering the famous establishment in 1996 comes to mind. Adorned in a baby blue skirt suit and a radiant smile that could warm even the coldest of American metropolitan cities, she, at 35, exuded grace and beauty. Little did the world know that only a year later, the princess would no longer be with us.
Princess Diana’s Arrival at The Drake (1996)
I arrived at the hotel around 2 pm on a chilly Friday afternoon. A hotel porter greeted me outside as I stepped out of my car, instantly hit by a cold burst of air that brought me to attention. the porter carefully placed my luggage onto the dolly. Clad only in my sport coat and jeans, I shivered in the brisk cold. For someone who plans his attire obsessively, I had underestimated the weather of my cold city. He assured me that they would take my luggage up to my room, and I was free to step into the lobby at this point.
My 24th birthday weekend had been one of anticipation. I don't recall when I decided to spend my birthday in my hometown of Chicago, or specifically at the Drake. This weekend perfectly aligned with the still-young citywide Chicago event known as "Restaurant Week," where establishments across the city offer special menus at discounted prices, creating a frenzy as Chicagoans scramble for dinner and brunch reservations. I decided to enjoy my birthday weekend around this event, writing about the historic hotel, Restaurant Week, design, and history. Despite my usual overpacking and overcaffeination, I planned a full schedule of lunches and dinners for the weekend ahead of me.
As a Chicagoan I had driven past the Drake building and stared at its iconic pink sign countless times. While I had heard it described as gauche or dated, I was struck by its opulence and warmth as I walked in on the eve of my celebratory weekend.
Making my way up the main staircase to the lobby, I stopped to read an inscription in the royal blue carpet: “Aquila Non Capit Muscas.” My Latin is nonexistent, so naturally I looked up the phrase; its translation is “the eagle does not catch flies.” The interpretation is that a person of merit and honor does not concern themselves with trivial or unimportant matters—a sentiment I reflected on as something that should be more present in our culture today.
After checking in, I made my way to the ninth floor. The chandelier off the elevator welcomed me with regal brilliance. When I entered my room at the very end of the corner hall I reminisced on a conversation I had earlier in the day. My hairdresser, whilst trimming my hair, shared her own memories of staying at The Drake a couple of years ago with her husband. "It feels like you are traveling back in time," she mused. Then came the unexpected revelation, "Did you know it's haunted?"
The Ninth Floor Elevators.
My heart skipped a beat, as the porter knocked on the door with my luggage for I had been caught in deep thought over “ghosts” and such. Once settled in my room, with bags neatly stored away and evening jackets and shirts gracefully hung in the closets, I felt compelled to start to photograph the room. The upholstery, though aged, wore its history in the creases and marks that tell stories of a bygone era. The layout of the room was thought out, its details standing as timeless witnesses to the years gone by. The drapery and wallpaper in our room mirrored the regality I previously mentioned, creating an ambiance that transports you. The occasional groan of the radiator, every thirty minutes or so, echoed through the room, a subtle reminder of the hotel's living history. Recalling my conversation with the hairdresser, There's a peculiar beauty in our fascination with relics and the gentle fear they evoke. As I immersed myself in the atmosphere of the room, I couldn't help but appreciate the unique allure of this room—a place where history and us people can seamlessly intertwine.
Photographs of the suite.
After concluding the room photography, I settled at the desk with an icy view, delving into research to better grasp the corridors I would traverse over the next few days. The hotel, a once global symbol of high society, has hosted influential political figures like Winston Churchill, Eleanor Roosevelt, and several U.S. presidents. Its guest list boasts notable artistic icons—George Gershwin, Judy Garland, Elizabeth Taylor, Marilyn Monroe, Frank Sinatra, and Grace Kelly.
Adding intrigue, the hotel accommodated infamous figures such as Al Capone and the 1930s Chicago Mafia head, Francesco Nico. Among the distinguished guests, it became a haven for both luminaries and the notorious.
Constructed by renowned Chicago architect Benjamin H. Marshall who was hired for the job by original owners John B. Drake and Tracey Corey, the hotel's initial cost of $10 million, is equivalent to $120 million today, attests to its grandeur.
The hotel came under Hilton's ownership in 1980, the hotel then underwent extensive renovations—$45 million from 1998 to 2003 and a subsequent $15 million revamp between 2005-2006.
In an era of sleek, modern hotels, The Drake, with its enduring traditional style, stands as a testament to Chicago's history. While newer establishments saturate the market, The Drake firmly establishes itself as a historical cornerstone.
View of The East Wing of The Drake From My Room.
Photograph of Architect, Benjamin H. Marshall.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, my research concluded, and a cozy gathering unfolded in the suite. Champagne and non-alcoholic sparkling wine catered to diverse preferences. We danced at a local gem, The Hangge-Uppe, a dimly lit bar with a stage for heartfelt renditions of oldies. The night ended around midnight, and in the suite, my best friend and I shared thoughts on all the things two best friends talk about. A perfect end to a wonderful night.
The next morning, we sneaked out early, craving Ralph's coffee. Amid discussions about the article and the nuances of growing up and the splintering cold, we found joy in each other's company. Back at the hotel, coffee in hand, we circumnavigated the halls, captivated by the soothing allure of the crown molding and light blue walls of the French Room.
Photographs from The French Room.
After saying goodbye to my friend, the next highlight on the agenda was "tea time," a cherished tradition at the hotel, embraced by Queen Elizabeth and later Princess Diana. Regarded as one of the country's finest tea experiences, it unfolded uniquely. Seated by the fountain, my boyfriend and I indulged in macaroons and tea sandwiches, accompanied by individual tea pots – he with The Drake black tea and I with a flowery blend named after Princess Margaret.
Photographs from our tea at Palm Court.
A harpist played in the background, enchanting us with a rendition of Debussy's "Clair de Lune," my favorite. Amidst jests about our lack of proper tea etiquette, we playfully sang to each other, a nod to the iconic SNL skit featuring Emma Thompson and Leslie Jones in a hilarious "etiquette lesson."
“Back and forth, six to twelve.” We sang, laughing as we stirred our tea.
Photographs of me on the steps after Tea.
After wrapping up the tea, we found ourselves seated on the steps of a charming corridor, eagerly sketching out our plans for the day ahead of our dinner. Our chosen adventure led us to once more step out into the cold, with a planned visit to Ralph Lauren and Chanel. Setting off, we ended up having a lovely afternoon exploring our burrow of the city, culminating in a lovely lunch at the hotel's restaurant, aptly named "Coq D'Or" – a nod, perhaps, to Rimsky-Korsakov's Opera.
A mural in the main room of “Coq D’Or”
Our meal, hastily devoured yet satisfying, consisted of burgers and fries. With our appetites appeased, we retired to the comfort of our suite. We watched an episode of "The Crown," which was a fitting choice of media to unwind with after a day filled with sugar and adventure. Knowing our dinner reservations weren't until 10 pm, we had an abundance of time to leisurely spend.
Around 9 pm, we changed into our dinner attire. I swapped the conventional tie for a black Prada bolo tie, adding a playful modern flair to my suit. We reached Boka in Lincoln Park a good ten minutes before our scheduled reservation. Amidst occasional yawns, we amused ourselves by fixating on an amusingly absurd painting of Bill Murray near the restaurant's entrance. The portrait, styled in a regal manner, added a comedic twist to our pre-dinner moments.
Photographs of me at dinner that night.
Boka, a renowned Michelin-starred restaurant, is notoriously challenging to secure a reservation, particularly during this weekend due to restaurant week. We were fortunate to secure a seat at a charming table in the restaurant's main room. The standout moments of our multi-course restaurant week menu that evening were the delectable mocktails, the beef tartare, and the delicious duck raviolis. To cap off the experience, the waiter surprised me with a slice of confetti cake adorned with a candle for my birthday. I found this gesture to be delightfully simple and heartwarming. We concluded our dinner with a cappuccino, our faces adorned with sleepy yet joyful smiles.
The charming Confetti Cake.
I woke up at 8 am the next day. After our morning coffee we got dressed and all packed up, ready to go. By noon, we were off to our final stop of the weekend: brunch at Mon Ami Gabi in the Belden-Stratford building.
Me and my parents in the lobby of the Belden.
As one of my favorite restaurants in the city, its Persian-inspired dishes always bring me joy. Joining us for brunch were my cousins and parents, and we spent a delightful time sharing funny stories and reminiscing. Highlights from the Restaurant Week menu included the delectable French toast and the exquisite eggs benedict. We indulged in tea and cappuccinos, time flew by amidst the fun, and we enjoyed our time together thoroughly.
The eggs Benedict.
The French toast.
I think that sharing meals together creates cherished memories that last a lifetime. Amidst shared laughter and the warmth of togetherness. This moment at a small French restaurant in the city is one of those for me.
Me and the group at our table at Mon Ami Gabi.
I concluded my weekend in the way I cherish most: in my room at my apartment in Lincoln Park with a comforting cup of coffee and my journal. As I reflected on my experiences while writing this article, I revisited my notes and stumbled upon a brief entry from the first night we stayed at the hotel. It reads:
“Ive discovered hidden treasures within this weekend— ‘I am so lucky to be in this space’ I say to myself, In my way, trying to acknowledge the striking contrast between the serene beauty of these grand rooms and the vibrant city they reside in.”
I realized that amidst life in the city, hidden treasures are waiting to be discovered— The words penned in my journal on that first night echoed in my mind, reminding me of the joy I had discovered within the walls of The Drake and the city it calls home. I carry with me not just memories, but a profound appreciation.
On my actual birthday, January 24th, a mere two days after my weekend escapade, my best friend joined me at ‘The Smith’ for lunch. As I diligently tweaked the grammar in my article, she playfully approached me at the bar, teasing about capturing the moment of me engrossed in my work. We indulged in the irresistible blue cheese potato chips, a staple at 'The Smith,' while delving into conversations ranging from the intricacies of the art world to reflections on love and family.
Photographs from our lunch at ‘The Smith’
Later, we embarked on a cinematic exploration to watch Yorgos Lanthimos' latest film, 'Poor Things,' both sharing a peculiar fondness for surrealist cinema. Exiting the theater into a warm, rainy night, we strolled to the train station, dissecting the film's storyline, admiring its set designs, and discussing the nuances of its music and dialogue.
A poignant line from the film, spoken by the character Bella Baxter and portrayed by the talented Emma Stone, lingered in my thoughts: 'I've adventured the world and found nothing but sugar and violence.' It struck a chord, encapsulating a profound truth about the human experience.
As we bid farewell outside the train station, I walked home in the rain, contemplating the significance of my birthday, pondering my personal growth, and reflecting on my journey towards happiness.
In moments like these, life's brevity serves as a poignant reminder that even princesses fade away, carriages can transform into pumpkins, and certainty remains elusive.
Therefore as I come to the end of this article, I'll savor the final sip of my coffee every morning with joy, embracing this tranquil moment in my life with contentment.
as is customary in my writing, I leave you with a song “My Love Mine All Mine.” By Mitski.
Thank you for reading,
Design Americano.