Park City Ghost Town: Montage vs. Waldorf

Waldorf Lobby

Since my layoff last October, I haven't been in many hotels. Marie dropped by in November, providing an excellent excuse to head up into the hills for a night out.

I made dinner reservations at Montage Deer Valley's Apex.  When she found out Apex was in the Montage, she said something like, "That big monstrosity of a place?"

I for one, have never had a negative thought about the Montage. But wanting to be objective, I remained silent and entertained her perspective.

At the Montage, we ate in an echoey dinning room and watched an inebriated fifty-something woman, desperate for a shag, working the two bartenders and solitary male.

In the offseason, and without people, the scale of the Montage seemed off somehow. It gave me the feeling of wandering around an empty cathedral intended to reinforce the glory of architecture and the insignificance of man. The hotel's great room, built to be a cozy gathering spot, could have been a set from The Shining.

Marie convinced me to drop in for dessert at the Waldorf Astoria Park City, near  Canyons ski resort. I've never wanted to visit the Waldorf, because its location in sagebrush pastureland a mile or so from ski runs has none of the romance of the pine-nestled Montage.

We lounged by the fire, and then snacked on gingerbread and ice cream after being comfortably tucked away on a plush banquette in the hotel's Slopes restaurant.

I was willing to concede this one. Marie was right. For cozy, off season dining, the Waldorf wins.

To be fair, here is a color photo of the Montage's Lobby Great Room.

Montage Lobby Great Room. 

The Cure for Endless Winter: Montage Giveaway

Congratulations KPW on the path towards becoming the recipient of Hotel Geek's Endless Winter giveaway! 

Thank you all for commenting on this post. I've been on family vacation for a week in Mexico in a house will solar panels and spotty internet, so thanks for being patient. Hopefully Salt Lake is in full summer swing by now.

 ---

 The snow just keeps coming down at home. I almost went skiing this morning, but instead I stayed in bed wishing for a fireplace and a furry dog to wedge my cold feet under.

To celebrate a hotel close to my heart where it is possible to do both, (and at great off-season rates, I might add), I present the Montage Deer Valley Swag give-a-way:

1. One black Montage Deer Valley baseball cap.
2. One plush Montage blanket in an ingenious saddle roll, perfect for lounging at home or for dreaming about outdoor concerts and picnics in the summer yet to come.

Simply leave me a comment if you are interested. I'll randomly select a winner and send it to you sometime next week.

Montage Resorts & Hotels in the Plural

I notice that Montage's amenity pens, the ones in the rooms, are branded with, "Montage Hotels and Resorts" these days.

These have got to be my favorite hotel pens.

These roller ball instruments are constructed of painted steel, with a chrome accents on barrel, cap, and clip.  They don't seem expensive, but are classy, and leagues ahead of a branded Bic. When I opened my laptop bag after the trip, I realized I had subconsciously clepto-ed at least eight.

The generic branding of the pen, I assume to market Montage's expanding portfolio, made me feel a loss of the brand's focus on place. Reading the logo transported me to a centralized purchasing department cubicle with florescent lighting. I had to set it down and look out the window to come back to the beach.

I want my pen to speak of place, right along with the artwork, cuisine, and staff uniforms of the resort.

Perhaps this is accomplished with color differentiation? So far I've observed that white pen equals Laguna Beach, and green pen equals Deer Valley.

I can't wait to add, Montage Beverly Hills, Montage Cabo San Lucas, Montage Sonoma, and Montage Hanalei Bay to my lifted pen collection.

I hope each hotel's name is pad printed on them when I unknowingly slip them into my bag.

Montage Deer Valley: Monty mania

When I stayed at the Montage Deer Valley last month, I couldn't get enough of Monty, the resort's canine ambassador. There's just something about a dog-in-residence that transforms a swanky resort into a venerable estate along the lines of a Scottish castle, or a timeless German hunting schloss. A dog makes this hotel the kind of place you'd expect to find Queen Elizabeth II lounging about in sans hat, or in which Wilhelm II might be found smoking a pipe.

I ask Andrew, one of the sales managers, where the idea came from for the house dog. Andrew came to the Montage Deer Valley from the Ritz-Carlton Bachelor Gulch in Colorado. He tells me that the Ritz tried out a dog on a trial basis. The dog quickly became the highlight of guests' experience at Bachelor Gulch, and now management wouldn't think of the resort without one. Montage had to get one too.

Monty, the adorable Bernese Mountain Dog pup, chews on just about everything at this stage in life. To save the furniture and until he's trained, he'll spend most of his time in staff offices. Hang out in the lobby long enough, or take a walk outside at night, and you'll find him. You'll also find a signature beer named after him,  Monty's Belgian White, in Daly's Pub and Grill. If you want a Bernese pup of your own, you'll find a $100 plush Monty toy in Pique, the resort's signature boutique.

If you're lucky, you may also run into Alan Furston, owner of Montage Resorts. He'll be in casual clothes and be up for a chat. Something about running a place with a canine ambassador gives him an air of subdued celebrity, royalty even.

I never considered myself a dog person, but Monty sure changed that.

Montage Laguna Beach: 75 degrees of January paradise.

I'm searching for a warm-weather resort to accommodate a meeting of 200 people next January.  Montage Laguna Beach hosted this particular program last week. Corporate culture dictates that we don't go to the same place two years in a row.

This morning, after several suggestions that fell flat, my boss asked, "Are Montage properties just so nice that we can never equal them?"

I dodged the question, but I should have responded, "Yes, I'm afraid so."

Oh, you've got a friend in Montage.

I had such a great time touring Montage Deer Valley a couple of weeks ago. Walking around with Tracy and Kurt in all the newly-opened splendor was a surprisingly casual, come-as-you-are experience.

In a literal sense, I wore jeans and my three-dollar Patagonia sweater I scored at a second-hand shop a few years ago.

In an atmospheric and social sense, we comfortably strolled about. Tracy felt no need to give a spiel, or to make up history as we went along. There were no overt statements of architectural intent, or heavy-handed brand teaching moments.

"What's that?" I point to a brassy apparatus in a display cabinet.

"I don't know." Untroubled, Tracy walks over to investigate. Pointing, "But that's a cover of one of the dynamite cases excavators found while digging the foundation."

Marcus, the General Manager, fills us in on the details and dollar amounts of the dynamite incident later.

Together we shrug and decide the original item must be a Geiger counter.

---

Speaking with staff, I piece together a story, taking place a few days before I arrive, of a locals-only Montage open house. Before the first check-ins, Park City business owners and residents were invited to have a look at the place.

"Afterall," Marcus explains, "They've put up with two years of construction dust, noise, and not to mention the increased traffic up Marsac Avenue now. . ."

Tracy and Kurt laugh about late-hours spent in the kitchen scooping cookies off of baking sheets. Andrew still can't believe the 4,000 people who toured the property in four hours.

They all speak about the sentiment of pride they felt hosting the town.

---

Earlier, in the lobby, Kurt tells us about a great photo-op just off the Vista Lounge. We discover it on our walk-round.

If you stand in just the right place, its almost as if antlers sprout from your head. Before I figured it out, I thought I might need a stool to stand on.

Me, posing: "Ah! It's a Leaning Tower of Pisa thing."

Lesley, taking the photo: "I wonder if this will become a thing."

Connie, observing: "Well, you've got to admit. It's a pretty cool thing."

We end the tour in the lobby by a bronze statue of venerable-looking skier. Tracy scouts around to make sure we are unsupervised.

"I'm trying to start a thing here, like the Trevi Fountain. I'm telling people that if they rub the ski just here when they leave," Tracy works her fingers in a circular motion and invites us to do the same, "they'll make it safely back to the Montage."

We stand a little taller. We've inaugurated something of mythic importance.

"Next time you come, that spot will look like a shiny penny."

We part. I return to the Vista Lounge to make progress on a research paper. Stephanie checks on me every 15-minutes or so to refresh my glass of water. An older gentleman, exploring the hotel, smiles at my pile of loose papers and laptop. 

"You've really got the best spot in the house for that kind of thing." 

I couldn't agree more.

Curiosity: The Montage Secret Element

Driving down I-15 to work last Friday, I glanced over at the snow-bound Wasatch Mountains and had a thought about my stay at the Montage Deer Valley the night before.

I had asked a lot of questions.

Usually,  questions at a hotel arise when an unmet need requires looking after: 

     "Is there a room with a better view?"

     "How much is that going to cost me?"

     "Could I make a reservation for two?"

While less than other resorts,  a role for functional interrogatives continues to exist. However, the questions replaying in my mind originated from genuine, child-like curiosity.

---

At Buzz Coffee and Tea, with Mehgan, tasting locally-produced lavender, alfalfa, and dandelion honey.

In my head:  "If I become an beekeeper what flower would I specialize in? Could I produce apricot, or chokecherry honey?"

To Mehgan: "How long do blossoms need to flower for bees to produce honey?"

---

Petting Monty, the Bernese Mountain Dog, with Bob, in the lobby.

In my head: "Could I be a dog owner? Why don't I  get a bigger apartment, or buy a house in the Avenues? Am I ready to settle down?"

To Bob: "Is Monty's breed is good with kids?"

---

Riding a lift at Deer Valley with Andrew.

In my head: "Where else in the world could I work and live? Have I developed skills in my current job that would be valuable elsewhere?"

To Andrew: "How did you join Montage?"

---

I suppose that with my creature comforts so exquisitely met, my inner child took over, and the world became a place full of possibilities and wonder.  I felt somewhat like my seven-year-old self, the child who still believes he can grow up to be a man with a one-word job description: a cowboy, an artist, a writer, the president. 

I'm convinced this "Montage curiosity" is partly born of the resort's culture of incorporating local food, art, craftsmen, and various other elements into each of their spectacular properties. Guests taste, smell, and experience a combination of elements, that on their own are often perceived as mundane. Stay long enough and subtle message is conveyed.

Montage to guest: "You too can incorporate the elements around you to create and become something innovative and spectacular."

Announcing Montage Cabo San Lucas

In anticipation of my stay at the brand new Montage Deer Valley tomorrow night, I've lifted a segment of an interview with Montage founder Alan Fuerstman from the April 2010 edition of Enigma magazine:

What is your future vision for the Montage brand?

 

The next Montage to open will be the Montage Deer Valley, which is in Park City, Utah. It’s a mountain resort, ski in and ski out, but a resort that will also have appeal on a year round basis. Again, it’s a magnificent location. It’s probably the preeminent ski mountain in North America. It has all the physical attributes of the top of the line resorts with all the comforts of the 21^st century. We went all around the world and looked at the best ski resorts and integrated some of those facets into the design of the property. It should quickly become the top ski and mountain destination resort in all of North America. 

We’re also working on a project in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Some of the finest resorts in the world are in Cabo and I feel we have the best location in all of Cabo. We are very disciplined about building Montage hotels and resorts in destinations reflective of the best locations in a given market. They are also all destinations that already have some great luxury hotels. From a risk perspective, that’s a smart way of doing business. We aren’t trying to create a new market for luxury; we are going into an already existing market with superior locations and products and combining that with a type of service we’re becoming known for. With those elements we should be able to ensure the greatest opportunity for success.

Meet Monty-Pooh the Montage Bernese Mountain Dog

Dear Chris,

I hope this email finds you doing well and enjoying your travels - Connie mentioned you are a very busy man right now.

I just wanted to check in with you and give you an update on construction as well as introduce you to Monty. He is our canine ambassador I was telling you about. He will spend he days greeting guests in the main lobby...

Construction is moving along at rapid speeds - we are actually getting our temporary occupancy permit today! With just 43 days until we open the doors it's getting pretty exciting around here... They (Layton Construction) are working on the final touches of the meeting space and restaurants and we are working on job fairs :)

Let me know if there is anything I can do to help convince the powers that be that Montage Deer Valley is where they should be for 2012.

Wishing you a great week!

Tracy

Let there be exquisite hotels: and there were exquisite hotels.

"They said a FAM trip could never be done on the Hilo side of the island. And I said, 'Watch me!"

A group of twenty-five event planners had just arrived at the Hilo International airport for a Big Island familiarization trip. Cathy Clarke, Founder of Cathy Clark Destination Management Co.,  provided a running  commentary on our transfer from the airport to the Hilo Hawaiian Hotel.

"Now I have a saying on my trips. . ." She sat sideways on the front seat, one hand on the microphone and the other looped around the seat for stability. "If you're not having fun, let me know what I can do. If you're still not having fun, get off the bus!"

We passed a row of gargantuan banyan trees with children playing tag around their jungle roots.  In front of each tree, a plaque commemorated the planter: "Cecil B. Demille," "Elvis Presley," "Elizabeth Taylor.". . .The sun had brought families out to the ocean's rocky shore for Sunday picnics and paddle boarding.

"The Hawaiian Islands are like my children." Cathy's whitish blondish hair swayed as the bus maneuvered a pot hole. "When I'm asked which one is my favorite, I have to say that I love them all the same." She winked her thickly mascaraed right eye. "But my home is on this island. . ."

Parked now in front of the hotel, Cathy blocked the aisle. Calmly and with enunciated vowels: "Remember. . ." (This was a pep talk to prepare us for our sub three-star accommodations.)"We are on the Hilo side of the island. You will have your five-star resort experience in two days. You are about to see and experience the real Hawaii I know and love. Since you are the first FAM ever, keep in mind that this is an adventure!"

Next morning on a site inspection with Linda, a muumuu-wearing Hawaiian with long black hair past her waist:

"Linda, when did the hotel last have renovations?"

"I think it was 1992, maybe earlier."

I admired this honest lamb among hotel wolves.

After the hotel tour, we loaded a coach bound for Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, home of Kiluea, "The world's most active volcano." Before the volcano, however, we visited Hilo's hot spots: a quaint old-town shopping district, Big Island Candy Company, home to maybe the world's greatest shortbread and chocolate-dipped squid, and the Imiloa Astronomy Center.

We reached the Jaggar Museum, perched above the Volcano's caldera, well after dark.

"Take your time walking to the museum. I have a surprise!" Cathy scurried off the bus, hobbling a bit with what must be a bad hip replacement. In front of the walk leading to an observational platform, she stopped and conversed with several shadowed figures in native dress. We soon caught up to her, shivering in the mountain air.

Cathy introduced us to the leader of a local Hula school, called a Halau, and ushered us onto the observational platform where we had an uninterrupted view of the caldera's red glow against the black of the night.

The dancers faced the glow, dancing to the drum beat and chant of their colleagues seated behind. They performed three numbers to the Volcano goddess, Pele, who is said to reside here. She is a deity of jealous destruction; but also the creator of new, virgin land where her lava meets the ocean.

One song was about a tempestuous love affair between Pele and another deity. Another was performed in worship of her creative force.  

The dancers wore green ti leaf lava-lavas, leis, and garland-crowns of dried leaves. They rhythmically pounded their feet on the earth, bowed to the ground, chanted "Pele!" and proceeded to the caldera's edge with arms stretch high in the air. They repeated the sequence again and again in a trance-like state. This was not the gentle swaying, ukulele music, Oriental Trading Company kitsch of the luaus offered at the swanky hotels on the other side of the island.

This was a dance of passion, and of frightening virility.

After the dancing, friends and family gathered around the performers in warm congratulations. later, I overheard that twenty years ago, Pele's lava flow nearly destroyed their entire town.

On the bus again.

"Cathy," I observed privately, "Something has changed here, even just in the five years I've been coming to Hawaii. I don't feel like a colonizer anymore. I feel like a guest to far off land with a rich, thriving, culture."

Cathy sat up, almost whispering, "In the colonial era Hawaiian elders decided that they were going to put what they called, 'The knowledge,' away for a time. About twenty years ago one elder here on the Island decided that the children must learn 'The knowledge' before it died away. Once he started sharing, traditional halaus began popping up all over the place. Children are learning 'The Knowledge' again."

Abruptly she reached for the microphone.

"Who's going to join me in the bar tonight!? We're gonna drink em dry. . . Anyone have a good ghost story? I know I do! But you're probably tired of hearing me. . . No?"

My mind wandered to the potent image lingering in my mind of the dancers and the glow of Kilauea. I contemplated the feral spirituality that emanated from Kilauea and the significance of creating new land in a vast ocean.

Predictably, perhaps, I shifted from sacred to profane. Why couldn't there be, for example, a Montage Resort on the Hilo side of the Island? Something meticulously planned, and culturally aware. Guests who have done the cliche beach vacation could be lured to this side's glistening, brand new, black sand beaches. I went so far as to envision a rainy season festival selling out hotel rooms with guests desiring new and unpredictable travel destinations and weather.

"Are you having fun?!" boomed Cathy behind the microphone. "You ain't seen nothing yet!"

Marci, Is that you?

"Kurt. I just want to know if Marci is going to be working at the Deer Valley property."

Lounging on the Mountain Terrace's "Garden of Fire" at the St. Regis Deer Crest. The 1812 Overture playing in the valley below by the Utah Symphony. (We can hear the cannons. There may have been fireworks). Kurt, Montage Deer Valley director of sales, is buying.

"Who?"

"Marci, from the website."

(Knowing chuckle.) "No. She was just a model we casted."

I found Marci on my first extended visit to the Montage Deer Valley site. She's under the "Activities & Amenities" section of the photo gallery. She likes to ski, looks amazing in a cardi and jeans, and works at the resort concierge desk. She's just my type.

All hotel fantasies aside, Marci, the fake concierge, looks a lot like the staff at the Laguna Beach Property: relaxed immaculate, wearing a sweater, hot, but approachable.

She uses one word responses, smiles, and nods her head to show she's listening: "Absolutely," "Certainly," "Definitely," "Precisely," and on occasion, "Of course," and on even rarer occasion, "Just a moment."

Montage staff are always waiting just for you, and your request will be the high point of their day.  But all of this doesn't come off in a robot sort of way like you might expect.  I've adopted the one word phrase thing whenever anyone asks me to do something at work. I don't know why, but it's kind of fun to be concise and attentive.

After running a program in Laguna last January,  I gushed to my driver all the way to the airport about how every staff member seemed perfectly placed and appeared to love his or her job. 

On late nights and long flights, I sometimes dream about quitting mine,  donning my favorite wool Patagonia sweater, and driving up the canyon for an interview. 

Measure Twice, Cut Once

"We wanted to create the quintessential mountain destination. And we're ahead of schedule."

Chris, the Montage Deer Valley General Manager, was about to guide us through his precious.

"We looked at Tahoe, Breckenridge, Whistler, Taos. . .Nothing even comes close to what we found here at Deer Valley. It was just ranked #1 again by Ski Magazine. And Salt Lake International is only 35-minutes away."

On cue, the meeting planners looked out of the shuttle's back window, over the mountains towards the city.

"You've got direct flights from New York,  Los Angeles, Paris, Tokyo, Osaka [Not True], Mexico City, and about every other major city in the USA. Have you ever gone through customs here? A breeze."

We parked, put on hard hats, reflective vests, and signed waivers before walking up a rough concrete drive.

"The Montage is solidly invested in Park City. We've used local artisans wherever possible. Jake our coppersmith, down mountain in Heber, custom made all of our rain gutters and flashings. We'll have a signature restaurant serving Western American fare featuring grass-fed Utah beef and lamb. We have an apiculturist setting up hives this fall. We'll have the finest local cheeses paired with seasonal honeys originating from the meadow right outside your guestroom door."

We stepped over the threshold into a Bavarian Schloss of an entryway, with high beams, stone, and a mammoth fire place.

". . . And our canine ambassador, Monty, was born just yesterday. Can you imagine what a magical experience it will be for children to come here over the holidays year after year watching our Bernese Mountain dog grow with them?"

On to the meeting space, with ballroom-sized hallways spilling onto valley-view terraces.

"As a meeting planner, have you noticed how there is total cell phone blackout in hotel meeting spaces? Not here. We have technology that sends cell signals from every inch of wiring in the resort."

 We toured some guestrooms and ended in the workout area.

"I wish I could show you the hundreds of thousands of hand-set mosaic tiles our artisans just finished laying." (Something about workout equipment.) ". . .Oh, that door might be open!"

We swarmed to a solid oak door separating the workout area from the spa. light flooded into a hall smelling of epoxy. I could make out the form of a two or three lane lap pool, plunge pools, hot tubs and steam rooms worthy of Diocletian.  We admired in silence.

"Chris. What kind of media attention is this place getting? I'm terrified that once word gets out, I'll never be able book a room here, let alone afford this place."

He stood a little taller and cleared his voice. "We're keeping media exposure to a minimum. Architectural Digest will run a story as soon as we've finished."

Sunset now. The breeze tossed the aspens as we wrote our names on the backs of stones soon to be be installed in the porte cochere.

"We don't need a lot of hype."

Tongue Twister in Park City

Editor's Note 26/1/11: It looks like Hyatt purchased an existing property in the Canyons Ski Resort Area. The "new" hotel is called the Hyatt Escala Lodge. A quick preview of photos shows small rooms with bedspreads. Yuck. The hotel is taking reservations, and seems to have significant refurbishment plans.

"Wait. Didn't you say you're from Utah?!"

My Finish-sounding business speed date from Hyatt practically jumped across the table."I was just at a Hyatt Worldwide meeting in Los Angeles. They announced a new Hyatt for Salt Lake City."

"Oh, I hope its downtown!" I leaned forward, nearly meeting her in the middle. "We really need another high-end property next to the Salt Palace." Images filled my mind of a sleek high-rise with brushed metal, warm wood tones, polished stone and white orchids at registration.

"No, not downtown . . ." The image dissipated.

She leaned back now, ready for a potentially long game of "do you know."

". . .A ski resort, I think. Yes. A ski resort."

"Park City?" 

"That's it! A Park Hyatt in Park City!" Head shaking now, "How could I forget?"

In the past year, Park City has experienced an infestation of world-class properties all perfectly nestled above town. The Waldorf Astoria, St. Regis, and Montage are all dazzlers. And with Park Hyatt Park City taking up residence, the town is beginning to sound like Dubai of the mountains.

The Park Hyatts I have known, and only in passing, exude nonchalant sophistication. They laugh at the thought of tux-wearing, champagne-serving butlers. ("That's so nouveau riche!") They gasp at the audacity of  Roman numerals in a hotel name. ("We don't need Frenchy-sounding words!") They are modern, you could say,  but not austere. I will call them incandescent rather than directly lit.

Hotel chains are so diversified that it's hard to keep all the sub-brands straight. Hyatt? Hyatt Regency? Hyatt Place? Hyatt Summerfield Suites? Andaz? Well, the Park Hyatt is the top of the top. What they all hope to be when they grow up. Hyatt International operates only twenty-six of them.

Park H's mission statement promises: Premier Locations, Understated Residential Elegance, Authentic Details, Gracious Service, Exquisite Cuisine, Impressive Art Collection, Rejuvenating Spas, & Exceptional Meetings and Events--but really, who doesn't these days?

To be different, perfect hotel placement would be on Main Street. Current mountain sprawl 5-stars outdo each other with promises of ten-minute van transfers to the city's industry-studded nightlife. Compared to the others, wouldn't walking distance be so, well, luxurious?

My Finn seemed to think the Canyons Ski Resort will be home.

Wherever you end up, Welcome.