Stanhope Hotel Dream

Tuesday, February 24, 2009: In the dream I had today, I was at a garage or yard sale when I spotted a few pieces on a white table.  I recognized them as being part of the Stanhope Hotel’s restaurant chinaware. I was particuarly drawn to an oval serving tray and I asked the lady in charge of the sale how much it was. $30, she said. The colors were a bit faded, so I didn’t buy it.

One thing that can never fade are memories of  my first magical summer in Manhattan. I came across the Stanhope Hotel by accident. Very soon I was a regular. The people I got to know–members of the restaurant and managerial staff–were like family. I would walk fast as I got near the hotel and when I had to leave, I was very sad.

Some of the china pieces I used to eat off of are hard to find. The maker, Villeroy & Boch, may no longer have them. I would love to own the dinner, the salad and the butter plates. And I will never forget sipping from my Stanhope Hotel cup as I looked at the steps leading up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art across the street. Now that my life has taken a turn for the worse, these memories are treasured with poignancy and sadness.


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