Conor Popestays at the Dylan Hotel, Dublin 4
IT’S A SUNNY Saturday afternoon and I’m sharing the Dylan Hotel’s beer garden with an orange man wearing troubling clothes. I’m sipping a glorious gran mojito and wondering if, with his black tasselled slip-ons over sockless feet, pink shorts, blue blazer, loud striped shirt and outsized shades, he’s the most ridiculously dressed man I’ve ever seen when it occurs to me that he’s in his element and I’m probably the inappropriately dressed interloper.
The Dylan – being too cool to bother with capital letters, it styles itself the dylan – is that kind of place. Once a nurses’ home for Baggot Street Hospital, it has been a magnet for designer-clad Dublin socialites since it opened, in 2006, and is one of the last refuges for Celtic Tiger castaways.
Judging from the over-the-top adjectives it uses to describe its features, it loves itself almost as much as the fashion crisis beside me did when he bestrode the gossip columns of some Sunday newspapers like a clueless colossus in the early years of the century.
When I pull up outside the Dylan I look in vain for somewhere to park before calling reception. On-street parking in this part of Dublin is heavily metered and hard to come by, so news that the hotel has valet parking is welcome. Minutes later a bright and breezy member of staff dressed in black – naturally – bounds down the steps, takes my keys and drives off before I’ve had a chance to tip him. At no point does he, or the receptionist, tell me parking costs €20 a night.
Quite apart from the fact that any hotel that charges more than €200 for a room should throw in parking, staff should always be upfront about the charge. It’s not good enough to allude to it on the parking-ticket stub, which most visitors are not going to read. I’m glad I didn’t tip now.
Each of the hotel’s 44 rooms has been given Rococo chic flourishes that both enhance its hip boutique image and mask the fact that the rooms are not very big. My room has a distressed-chrome table, a wall hanging that interlaces black velvet with silver swirls, and several large and very funky glass lamps.
Although the room may not be very big, the bed is enormous. And amazing. Made with memory foam and covered in fine percale sheets, it is ridiculously comfortable. Every time I leave it is a wrench.
In retrospect, however, the €15 rose-petal turndown – one of many optional extras offered by the Dylan’s snazzy online booking engine – was a mistake, and not just because the pink-and-white petals in the form of two intertwined hearts on the bed were hilariously cheesy.
There was also the “What the hell am I supposed to do with them?” dilemma. Scatter them all over the floor? Flush them down the toilet? Scoop them into the bin? Who knows?
Each room comes with a Bose iPod docking station and an iPod loaded with walking tours of Dublin and a collection of tunes. To be fair to the Dylan, some of the music is quite good, and it's not really its fault that the first song that came on in shuffle mode was Elton John's terminally unhip Candle in the Wind.
“The decision to dine in the comfortable surroundings of your room or in the magnetic vibe of the dylan restaurant may be the most difficult choice you make during your whole stay,” the hotel literature claims. I hardly think so. Unlike leaving the bed, leaving the room to go in search of food is no wrench at all.
Dinner is, however, a mild disappointment. The food is very good, but the space is too brightly lit and the service too slow – not much of a surprise, as the staff seem to be run ragged. The maitre d’, for example, shows diners to tables, takes orders, readies tables ahead of later sittings, serves food and pulls pints. I’m surprised he doesn’t take a turn in the kitchen, too.
The restaurant also caters for large parties, and say what you like about frequent choruses of Happy Birthday, they don't do much for any hotel's "magnetic vibe".
Breakfast, on the other hand, is a joy. The exotic fresh fruit cocktails, cold cuts, warmed pastries, freshly squeezed juices and cooked-to-order fry-ups, made with top-quality produce and served by friendly staff, will live long in the memory.
As will the bill. The Dylan is undoubtedly a nice hotel, with some fantastic flourishes, but it’s not, perhaps, as nice as it thinks it is. And a bill of well in excess of €400 for a single night was wantonly expensive even when a few beers, a couple of bottles of wine, the glorious gran mojito and my €15 rose-petal extravaganza are taken into account.
WhereThe Dylan Hotel. Eastmoreland Place, Dublin 4, 01-6603000, dylan.ie.
What44-room five-star city-centre hotel.
Best rates€169 for a "luxury double room" midweek, rising to €189 at weekends. These prices exclude breakfast. A full Irish costs €27.
Restaurants and barsOne bar, including a sheltered beer garden with patio heaters, and one restaurant.
AmenitiesTwo private function rooms available, complimentary Wi-Fi.
AccessOne disabled-access room available, with hotel access via a ramp.
Child friendlinessCots are provided, and babysitters are available. A two-course children's menu costs €12.50.