The indoor pool channelled bathhouse chic, and in the cold plunge pool a man was meditating. Everything – from the treadmills to the showers – was styled as if a photographer from Elle Decoration was about to walk in. Of course!Īt Equinox, the staff are as beautiful as the customers, and the customers are very, very beautiful. My tour was led by a handsome young receptionist in a suit, who, on learning that I was from London, casually told me he used to model there. Shored up by proper American food, I returned to the hotel’s gym and spa. Could I just remain locked away, living off the dried sprouts? Thankfully, there was a Shake Shack across the road, which I figured I could get to without being spotted. The staff were all so stylish that I was briefly gripped with a terror of leaving my room. 'A slice of Scandinavian chic in Manhattan' “There are over 150 publications available for you to read on your in-room tablet, where you can also order room service.” I smiled sweetly, and hoped to God I would be able to turn off the lights later (I couldn’t, obviously). “We are completely paper-free,” explained the staff member who showed us to our room, which was so hi-tech it required at least 15 minutes of explanation. Instead, there were packets of crispy almond butter Brussels sprouts, kelp jerky, sachets of Moon Juice Adaptogens (herbs, mushrooms and minerals that apparently help to protect the body from stress-induced damage) a “high-performance anti-ageing and lip filler treatment” (a snip at $125) and a Binchotan Charcoal Facial Puff ($17).
What kind of hotel was this, I cried! To which the answer is: the kind of hotel attached to one of the world’s most luxurious gyms, where membership can cost up to $500 (£400) a month.
So off I pootled to the new Equinox hotel in Manhattan, utterly clueless as to the disaster that would shortly unfold, the most pressing thing on my mind being the fact that there was no club sandwich on the room service menu – only a spelt bread creation with herb-roasted turkey, picked shallot, celery root and apple – and no Pringles in the minibar.
This was back when simple border controls seemed sufficient enough to keep out this new coronavirus everyone seemed to be talking about, though only in passing, and not in a serious way, because how could we, a civilisation that can create a luxury wellness destination with cryotherapy chambers and state-of-the-art spinning machines, be undone by the actions of someone in a wet market several thousand miles away? At immigration, the officers were even more unwelcoming than usual – had I been to China in the past 14 days, they barked, in such a way that made me think I might get a warmer welcome there. Two months ago – aka 2,000 years ago – I flew in a state of blissful ignorance to New York, to stay in the world’s most health-conscious hotel.
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