The Imperial by Ken Scrudato

Upon entering the Hotel Imperial, you instantly get the impression that your stay might find you passing Mick Jagger, Kofi Annan, or various members of faded aristocratic clans in the hallways. Like the city it calls home, this hotel is impossibly, deliriously grandiose, its every inch inspiring varying degrees of awe. But also like Vienna, it feels quite hip and with it; there's nary a hint of stuffiness. In fact, though the staff seems always at the ready, when I insisted upon carrying my own bag, I was given a smile and a compliant shrug (in the ostensibly hipper Hotel Amigo in Brussels, my bag was virtually yanked from my possession). This leaves one with the feeling of being free to explore and enjoy the staggering beauty of this neo-classical gem, originally a palace for the Duke of Wurttemberg.

The hotel's legendary grand staircase is just that; one can easily imagine royal wedding parties descending it on their way to decadent celebrations in the hotel's Hallensalon on the ground floor. The 128 rooms are done up in stylish but understated period furniture, and the bathrooms are exceedingly lavish (lots of marble, heated floors, lux toiletries, plush towels). Unfortunately, my otherwise gorgeous suite offered rather uninspiring views of the UPS building across the way, so I strongly suggest asking for a higher floor; otherwise, just draw the curtains and lose yourself in a little bit of 19th Century fantasy.

The restaurant isn't much, but just down the road, Corso, at sister hotel The Bristol, is one of Vienna's hottest tables. I do quite recommend whiling away a sunny afternoon at the Imperial's sidewalk café, and sharing late evening cocktails with a romantic someone at the hotel's regal Maria Theresia piano bar. Sure, this is precisely the sort of luxury that has inspired centuries of working class revolt--but taken in chronological context, it's a spectacular way to spend a few days in this eternally majestic city.