Karl decorated it. This picture sits on a side table, discreet in one of the far parlours.
Hotel Moschino in Milan is fashion-fashion. Nobody who stays there actually eats. Breakfast comes in an enormous plastic hatbox that takes up the whole room. The waiter lifts off the cover and it contains a cappuccino and a brownie. I was hungry in Milan. Very hungry. My bed looked like a wedding dress dyed black by a jilted bride. No sweet dreams in Milan.
I so wanted to like it but it was uncomfortable and terribly expensive.
Last but not least there was the Africa room in a Frankfurt hotel complete with leopard print carpet, bedspreads, bedsheets, bin, lamps and art. No deadbolt on the door. I asked the receptionist if all the rooms were like this, and he smiled, "Only yours".
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