Hotel Zetta San Francisco

Mr Smith and I spot Hotel Zetta moments after we emerge blinking from the underground at Union Square, the Times Square of San Francisco. Around us, people queue at the quaint Powell Street turntable, where the cable cars get switched around and sent back up the steep streets. A huge Levi's store serves as a reminder of hippies who propelled the brand to fame by adopting the working man's denim as uniform in the sixties.

Zetta's neon sign shines like circus lights down Fifth Avenue. True enough, this is a boutique hotel that has put the work into making sure you have a good time. We dodge a man flailing around in virtual reality goggles in a booth by the door and head for the reception desk. It’s 6pm on a Saturday and the bar is bustling. People lounge with cocktails on a snaking camel leather couch down one side of the entrance. There’s a queue to use a pool table.

As we’re welcomed and handed a key, we notice a distinctly anglophile theme to the decor. Huge framed portraits of the Beatles hang in the two story bar area and a bright red phone box has been installed, for decorative purposes, by the lift. The British touches add to other quirks: a chandelier made of folded spectacles and a giant plinko board that is played with footballs. Later we learn that there used to be a slide in the lobby before it had to be removed for health and safety reasons.

After a long day of traveling, it’s all Mr Smith and I can do to pull ourselves away from the sumptuous bed, set back from the corridor by a generous entrance hallway, giving the room a sense of seclusion. We stretch out on it for a moment and sync Spotify with the in-room bluetooth jukebox, searching ‘California’. But a sliver of bright blue sky is visible from our hotel window. We decide it’s too early to call it a night. Especially when Spotify selects the Eagles’ ‘Hotel California’ as the next track.

We refresh in the long bathroom with luscious smelling Roil toiletries by the celebrity hair stylist Amanda George, taking turns on the soothing grey mosaic tiles in the shower.

Back downstairs, a generous cocktail and snack menu helps this bar live up to its name: Salvage and Rescue. But the second storey playroom, up a staircase hung with classic album covers from Nirvana to Radiohead, is clearly the main draw for passing evening drinkers and hotel guests alike. The alcoves are lined with amusements, from beanbags around a piano, a photo booth, table tennis and football.

Settling into cocktails and snacks from the bar, we watch Saturday night unfold around us for just as long as jet lag will allow then sneak off to the peace of our room.

We wake hungry the next morning and make a beeline to the Cavalier, a Brit-influenced restaurant connected to, but not owned by, Zetta. While the high ceilings and pristine white tablecloths are promising, both the scrambled eggs and the service are on the chilly side. But later we discover the fabulous Bluestem Brasserie just around the corner. It manages to be both cosy and cool, with an inventive brunch menu comprising focaccia with glistening burrata and bright marinated beetroots with feta as well as the usual eggs and toast.

Zetta’s location in Soma is perfect for exploring the city. We travel on the colourful antique trolley, which stops right outside, to the pier for the obligatory trip to Alcatraz (well worth it for the views of San Francisco from the island, even if your interest in prison history is patchy). Any time spent at Fisherman’s Wharf, a touristy market area at the tip of the San Francisco peninsula, is wasted time however, unless you like dodging children trying to convince their parents to buy sweets.

Another hack: it’s the first game of the San Francisco Giants baseball season while we are in town, which turns out to be a five-hour game that has fans flooding into the stadium in up-and-coming Mission Bay. Tickets are gold dust. But at Atwater Tavern, right on the water’s edge, you’re close enough to hear the stadium roar. Plus you can watch the game on big screens while sipping cocktails, or slip upstairs for great views over the water.

Back at Zetta that night, Mr Smith and I do a ritual rifle through the minibar, giggling at the distinctly Californian flavour to the snacks on offer, from protein powders to ‘activated’ nuts. Right above the fridge, a secret drawer appears containing a ‘lovers’ kit’ of lube and vibrator and something called sex dust. We follow the instructions, dissolve the powder in water and end up with aphrodisiac hot chocolate. At Hotel Zetta, the games go on beyond the playroom…