And then, per the Laws of the Universe, we booked a commercial job back in New York and had to drag our asses back to the urban tundra.
We specify "business tourists" because we were working the whole damn time y’all: holding breakfast meetings in the café downstairs, printing scripts and contracts in the second floor Perch, and getting a shitload of writing done in our light-flooded corner room, complete with a window out of which one could exhale his or her inspiration-inducing smoke. (In of “inspiration” coming from our room.)
Out of five stars, we'd say that The Standard is too fucking cool for stars. Stars are for insecure assholes.
Katja + Ben