About Kimpton
I had heard of Kimpton’s reputation for a long time. Ever since it joined IHG points redemptions in 2018, it felt like actually trying one had become much more within reach. After looking at the polished promotional photos for Kimpton Hotel Monaco Washington DC on the official website, I held the brand in even higher regard. After all, the marketing language was all about “Lush,” “Luxury,” “Artistry,” and “Elegance.” That was the setup.
Kimpton Hotel Monaco Washington DC
Booking
To celebrate LD’s birthday, we did a spontaneous museum-focused trip to LA, with Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena and the world-famous The Getty as our targets. After booking our hotel in Pasadena, I had originally planned to use a Hilton FN to book Waldorf Astoria Beverly Hills, only to be told that it was fully booked in the near term. With no other choice, I remembered that I still had an unrestricted IHG FN available, so I went online and directly booked Kimpton La Peer Hotel, which still had availability at the time and was the closest option to The Getty. At that point I had not researched the hotel carefully enough, which planted the seeds for what came next. In fact, InterContinental Hotels LA Century City and Kimpton Everly Hotel were also options, but I passed on them because of possible traffic issues. In hindsight, either one would have been better.
Arrival
After work on Friday, we drove through the night at high speed and checked into Hyatt Place Pasadena (Hyatt Cat 3), where we got a comfortable night’s rest. When we checked out the next day, LD said the stay had been pretty good and asked whether Kimpton La Peer Hotel would be even better. With inexplicable confidence, I said, “That’s one of IHG’s top-end hotels, basically the equivalent of a WA in the Hilton family.” Of course, reality hit us very quickly.
A little after 7 p.m., with LD helping support me along the way, we finally wrapped up our marathon visit to the two museums. Spiritually, it had been incredibly rewarding. So many masterpieces were captured both in my camera and in my memory. At that point, all we wanted was to get to the hotel quickly, rest, and recover. We drove along Wilshire Blvd through the heart of Beverly Hills, passed the WA we had failed to book, turned onto Santa Monica Blvd, and then the GPS suddenly told us to turn right onto a frontage road. After two more turns, we wound up on a dark little street, and not long after that the GPS said we had arrived. My heart sank.
Street parking nearby was full, effectively forcing guests into valet parking, but I did not see many nice, luxury cars around. We turned left through a mosaic-style doorway and drove into the lo—well, tiny—lobby area. Since only one car could stop at the main entrance at a time, we had to wait for the car ahead of us to finish unloading before it was our turn. In total, the lobby area could accommodate only three cars at once. I know this because when we checked out, after waiting forever yet again, I saw the valet attendants could bring over only three cars at a time. Two of them even took turns chatting with us to calm us down.
Check-in
The loud music, cramped space, and long wait immediately pushed my first impression to the very bottom. The check-in desk was tucked into the corner on the right side facing the lobby. The middle of the lobby was a lounge area, where men and women were drinking and chatting. A little farther back was the bar. On the left was the restaurant, which also functioned as a bar at night. Quite a few people in revealing outfits moved freely throughout the entire first floor, even around the elevators. By the time I was holding the room key, what I felt more than anything was a sense of unease.
Sure enough, once we entered the room, even the tightly shut door could not block the bass from the music downstairs, which did not finally die down until around midnight. The bathroom also had no bathtub, which ruined my plan to soak and relieve the fatigue. The front desk told us that all rooms with bathtubs were sold out and they could not move us. I did not even have the energy to push further. This supposedly top-tier, upscale hotel had also very quickly joined the “eco-friendly” trend—really more of a cost-cutting one—by switching all bath products to large refillable bottles. I actually had LD open each one first to confirm there were no strange liquids inside before I dared use them. Later I remembered that I had, almost by accident, brought along the partially used set of four toiletries from Hyatt, which spared me some extra worry.
Our room was advertised on the official website as having a Balcony, but in reality it only had a near-floor-level window that could be opened slightly. The iron railing was just decorative, not a real balcony. And there certainly was no meaningful view. Although the hotel was not far from the main road, the surrounding streets were dirty and run-down. To exaggerate a bit, it felt like one side of the street was the wealthy area and the other side was the ghetto.
The room décor was very design-forward, but in a flashy, impractical way. When washing up at the otherwise nice-looking sink, water splashed all over the countertop. For a shorter woman, you also had to lean your whole body toward the faucet to use it comfortably. The shower, unbelievably, had no glass door at all and was completely open. In my personal hotel experience, I had only ever seen that kind of setup in Airbnb properties. And following the usual pattern in most U.S. hotels, the shower head was fixed, with no handheld option.
On top of that, the hotel had filled the empty spaces on the bookshelf and desk with overpriced drinks and snacks, and the MiniBar was also packed with items for purchase. It just did not feel like something that belonged in a top-tier, upscale hotel supposedly defined by Artistry and Elegance. Or maybe I simply failed to appreciate the deeper philosophy at work here—namely, the supremacy of money.
With the room’s physical product being what it was, I probably should not have expected much from the service either, attentive or otherwise. At times, it even felt like possible discrimination.
Breakfast
The next morning, I headed downstairs at the last possible moment for breakfast and went to Viale Dei Romani, which seemed to be the kind of social-media hotspot people like to check into. I say that mainly because I saw people taking selfies and staging photos. The hotel stay came with a so-called $30 Inclusive Fee, of which $20 could be used toward breakfast or brunch at the restaurant.
There were only a few tables occupied in the restaurant, and at the time only two servers were working, so I had no choice but to wait patiently. What I did not expect was that two white women who arrived after me sat down chatting, and one of the servers immediately hurried over to greet them and take their order. I sat there holding a menu I had practically memorized, with nothing to do but watch the show. Finally, after food had been delivered to some of the other tables, I quickly flagged down the other server and told them I was ready to order.
When I was eagerly waiting for my omelet to fill my stomach, cutting into it brought yet another “surprise”: the mushrooms I had ordered had been replaced with spinach. I immediately called over the server. After going back to confirm the order details, the server returned and said they could remake it, but that it would take another 15-20 minutes. What was I supposed to do? On one side was hunger; on the other, more waiting.
After breakfast, knowing how consistently slow the service had been at this hotel, I specifically went to the front desk to say we were checking out and asked them to bring our car around. The result was more waiting and then even more waiting, which led to the two rounds of awkward small talk from the valet attendants I mentioned earlier. By the way, while checking out, I told the front desk that the restaurant had messed up my breakfast, and the front desk agent—not the same one who had checked us in—immediately said they would remove my breakfast charge. LD had come downstairs earlier and signed a separate check, so that one could not be removed. They recalculated everything three times and printed three bills before finally getting it right. At that point, I was already mentally prepared for the hotel to charge the wrong amount anyway, which, as it turned out, was exactly what happened.
Summary
Compared with the Hyatt Place Pasadena we had stayed at earlier, both LD and I agreed that it outperformed this supposedly top-tier, upscale Kimpton La Peer Hotel in just about every way. Our standards are not especially demanding, but the contrast really made the shortcomings obvious. So no matter how heavily a brand markets itself, it is still wise to read more reviews and check the actual street view on Google Maps. In an age when photos can be very misleading, finding accurate information and choosing the right hotel still takes real homework.
——Just Show Me the Code, No BB! (a programmer-style sign-off)