Let’s assume, for the sake of argument (and/or psychological necessity), that the right candidate wins in November; that the world as we know it isn’t going to go to hell in a handbasket—and that you might even find yourself, one day not far from now, making actual plans to head to Washington, D.C. to join in some celebrations. Happy days are here again! Let’s also assume, for the sake of argument and/or psychological necessity, that you generally seek out more fashionable, even of-the-moment lodgings—but that, being a citizen of the world, you can also appreciate a place with a bit of history to it.
When I was going to college in Washington, D.C., some years back—there was a Bush in the White House, but let’s leave it at that—The Watergate Hotel was more historical artifact than actual place to sleep, meet, eat, or drink. The hotel’s legendary 42-seat French restaurant, Jean-Louis, somehow managed to maintain its place as the city’s power dinner spot until closing up shop in 1996, but the hotel itself—opened in 1967, seemingly with a Kennedy-Camelot kind of optimism that saw a place inside the Beltway for a glamorous, modern hotel—went through no less than 11 owners since the mid-’80s before it closed up shop and emerged earlier this summer after a multi-year, $200 million renovation at the hands of its new owners, Jacques and Rakel Cohen.
The good news? It’s still the Watergate: The landmark building’s legendary undulating balconies still curl their way around the curve in the Potomac, and then some; it still fairly owns its nook of a neighborhood that’s neither here nor there, but equally convenient to Georgetown’s shopping and dining (and nascent interiors and home-decor boulevard, Cady’s Alley—the nearby Dog Tag Bakery, founded by a Georgetown Jesuit priest and staffed by veterans, is a must) and Foggy Bottom’s Kennedy Center, the Watergate’s next-door neighbor. And, just as during my own halcyon Georgetown College days, it still attracts the odd Gatespotter now and again—that particular combination of history buff and conspiracy theorist who has either an abiding interest in the details of Nixon’s henchmen’s legendary 1972 break-in of the Democratic National Committee on the sixth floor of the Watergate office building next door to the hotel, or a detailed-beyond-belief wildcard explanation of who the “real” burglars were. Overheard one recent afternoon as I was passing the lobby of the office building on my way back to the hotel, spoken by a young man holding up a color photo of Nixon’s secretary, Rose Mary Woods: “But for that far-fetched story to be true, Rose Mary would have had to have maintained this awkward position for eighteen-and-a-half minutes—accidentally!” I kept walking. (Back at the hotel, the voice of Tricky Dick himself—droning on about his plan for peace in Vietnam and about the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty—haunts various public spaces.)
The even better news: The place hasn’t undergone a facelift so much as an interior rethink—or, in some cases, restoration. Rooms have been reconfigured, and other fundamentals of Luigi Moretti’s mid-century design—long-lost amid various attempts at “updating” the hotel before its earlier closure—have been brought back and highlighted by the Cohens with the help of Ron Arad. Add to that a chic international update of furniture and furnishings courtesy of Moroso and a staff outfitted in period-inspired uniforms thanks to Mad Men costume designer Janie Bryant—credit Rakel Cohen for that masterstroke—and you have a winning formula.
It’s still early days in the Watergate’s reemergence as a D.C. power player: While The Next Whisky Bar positively sparkles—easier than one might think, given that its walls are literally made of 2,500 whiskey bottles—and the hotel’s restaurants are up and running, when we visited the spa, pool (thankfully being restored in a fashion largely faithful to the original, where Hunter S. Thompson whiled away lazy Sunday afternoons drinking copious amounts of whiskey with Nixon’s senior advisor, Pat Buchanan), and rooftop bar, with nearly 360-degree views of all of Washington, D.C.’s highlights, were yet to be reopened (though a good word with the right doorman can get you a sneak peek). Until then, you might try sneaking in to the sleepy (but fully functioning) outdoor pool maintained for the tenants of the Watergate residential building (the other neighbor of the hotel and office building)—ask resident Ruth Bader Ginsburg to sneak you in.
Just be sure to request a room with a balcony (of which there are many). The views are extraordinary—not only did my room look out upon the bustling Washington Harbour and its maze of restaurants and amusements, along with Ye Olde School off in the distance, it also allowed me far too much time to ponder why there could possibly be a light suddenly turned on late at night on the sixth floor of the office complex next door.