Why book?
With its thoughtful design and hospitality ethos, The Greenwich Hotel can’t help but echo the old Italian American saying: When you’re here, you’re family.
Set the scene
I checked in on a crisp autumn Wednesday. The lobby was pleasantly sleepy, and I didn’t see much of anyone else, but that’s the hotel’s intended first impression: This 87-room manse is meant to be a getaway for those seeking quiet, a respite from the quotidian bustle of the city beyond its walls.
And what stunning walls they are: The exteriors are done in hand-made Pennsylvanian brick, garnished with custom cast bronze medallions—based on historic New York City manhole cover designs—atop the building’s crown. Inside, recycled heart pine flank the corridors like columns holding up the ceilings, themselves beaming with knotty reclaimed wood. All that to say, design is the hotel’s heart, pulsing a refined yet approachable vibe throughout its very posh body. It’s giving understated luxury. It’s giving, “Hi, AD, welcome to my home.” It’s giving, “Oh, these tiles? I had them made in Italy.” (Literally, the lobby floors were modeled after the terra-cotta flooring in a 14th-century Italian palazzo.)
What’s the backstory?
This exquisitely designed property in Tribeca opened its doors in April 2008, but feels like it’s been part of the city’s fabric for much longer. Perhaps it’s the hotel’s lived-in aesthetic textures: A principal element of The Greenwich’s myth-making is its commitment to what it calls “Old-World craftsmanship,” evident in the 10-foot ceilings and hand-carved moldings inspired by Parisian parlors, one-of-a-kind Tibetan antique rugs, and leather furniture created by Beaumont & Fletcher in England exclusively for the hotel.
Or perhaps it’s the reputation of the ownership: One of the owners is the actor Robert De Niro, who grew up nearby. (Co-owners include the indefatigable hoteliers Ira Drukier and Richard Born of BD Hotels, and De Niro’s son Raphael.) Original paintings by De Niro’s father, the abstract expressionist Robert De Niro Sr., add colorful drama to the hotel’s walls. Childhood photos of both Roberts, found in some guest rooms, are delightful Easter eggs. During my stay, I found a faded picture of Mr. De Niro next to the telephone as I called room service; thus, I experienced a fleeting delusion that I was asking Uncle Bobby’s chef to set up my breakfast for the morning.
Describe the rooms
Not one of The Greenwich Hotel’s 73 rooms, 11 suites, and 3 penthouses looks like another, all tastefully furnished as if by your chicest, most well-traveled friend. The walnut desks, the Carrera marble, the Morrocan tile, the Savoir beds (so firm-soft that Goldilocks would weep)—it’s all elegant yet easy, thrown together with savvy intention. Standard rooms are large by New York City standards, and smartly arranged for maximum floor space. Suites are gorgeous and ready for move-in; some have views into the sun-filled courtyard, others look out to the cityscape.
And the penthouses—oh, the penthouses. I stayed in the North Moore penthouse, a two-bedroom and two-floor residence with two working fireplaces, two bathrooms, a powder room, an office, a fully equipped kitchen (with dishwasher!), a dry sauna, and a steam room. I was pinching myself at the upgrade, but I didn’t get to make good use of all the amenities since I was running in and out during my stay (though I did find time for a steam and a soak in the tub). When I returned late one evening, I found that, during turndown service, housekeeping had drawn the curtains on the 30-foot skylight. I pressed a button on the wall and it took maybe 90 seconds for the automated shades to roll back and reveal to me the splendid skyline of New York at night.
How’s the food and drink scene?
There are two venues for eating and drinking: the Drawing Room and Locanda Verde. The former is tucked into the core of the ground floor, boasting 12-foot ceilings, cozy jewel-toned sofas, walls lined with bookcases and a wood-burning fireplace, and a bar with an extensive selection of spirits. The bartenders are true pros—they know the IBA cocktail list front to back and take “surprise me” as a challenge. The Drawing Room extends into a calm outdoor courtyard fenced off by French doors and covered by a canopy of latticed vines.
Over at Locanda Verde, one of the diamonds in the crown of star chef Andrew Carmellini, the vibe is bourgeois-bohemian: a mix of tourists who have heard good things and New Yorkers gathering for post-work drinks, date nights, and big dinners with friends. The menu is seasonal, but expect staple dishes like lamb pappardelle Bolognese and “My Grandmother’s Ravioli” to be there when you pay a visit. My favorite was the dry-aged duck arrosto, served on a bed of green farro, dressed with fig mostarda, and topped with pistachios—all of it tangy and crunchy, juicy and hearty. Safe to say, by meal’s end, I bought into the marketing copy’s idea of “soul-satisfying” Italian food. The restaurant does breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as well as 24-hour room service for The Greenwich.
Is there a spa?
The Shibui Spa takes its cue from Japanese bathing rituals, offering onsen-inspired baths alongside customized facials and massages with hot sake-infused towels. Treatments are extensive and popular with visitors and locals alike, so be sure to book ahead. There’s a lounge area with day beds for those awaiting their appointment or readying for a swim. The pool is perhaps the best indoor dip in the city; though it’s housed in the basement and there are no windows, the soft lighting from the lanterns adds to the moody and serene atmosphere. (I felt embarrassed as I made my noisy laps across the pool, even though I was alone on a weekday morning.) The eclectic design ethos doesn’t stop here either: The whole spa space is framed under the roof of a 250-year old wood and bamboo farmhouse, reconstructed in the hotel by Japanese craftsmen. The gym too is stylishly designed—with hemlock floors and forgiving lights—and the fitness equipment is up-to-date, if unfortunately not sourced from Olympus itself.
Talk about the neighborhood
Next door over from The Greenwich are the headquarters of the Tribeca Festival, the arts fest formerly known as the Tribeca Film Festival, so that may tell you a bit about the crowd you might see on the street. You can expect sleek executives waiting for dinnertime two-tops at nearby Mr. Chow and Thalassa, as well as Town Cars with heavily tinted windows secreting some star back to their hotel or home (Taylor Swift famously lives in the neighborhood). Tribeca is a monied address, so you’ll likely spot navy suits and pencil skirts commuting to the Financial District in the morning, and blonde moms in cashmere—or their nannies—ferrying children to Little League practice in the afternoon.
What’s the service like?
At The Greenwich Hotel, service is polished, confident, and friendly—familiar in a welcome way. I was greeted by name whenever I passed through the hotel’s front doors. Once, when I was visibly frazzled and rushing to a drinks appointment, I was offered use of the hotel’s car and driver, complimentary service to anywhere below 14th Street. For what it’s worth, rolling up to a dive bar in a Mercedes-Benz S Class does feel very Tribeca.
Accessibility
As for specific rooms, there are bookable ADA-compliant accommodations. In the building, there’s a central elevator bank and not a lot of stairs—none to the Drawing Room or Locanda; to the spa, gym, or pool; to any of the rooms. For the duplex penthouses, there are no ramps or elevators inside, but both levels are accessible through the hallways outside.
Anything left to mention?
In the way that you might adopt by osmosis the aura of a cleverly produced hotel, I really did feel like the most New York-y version of myself during my stay. I felt urbane, settled, and at home in the city in a way I hadn’t in a while—and I've lived here for ten years. Story time: For one of my first visits to the city as a teenager, a family friend offered to host me for the weekend. I didn’t know him that well, but I heard the words “Manhattan apartment” and conjured visions of silk rugs and roaring fireplaces, artwork sourced from far-flung travels and velvet couches into which you could disappear (and be contentedly lost forever). Suffice to say that my grand expectations didn’t meet reality—but they do here at The Greenwich Hotel.
377 Greenwich St., New York, New York 10013
United States
https://www.thegreenwichhotel.com/
(212) 941-8900