Pendry Chicago

We arrived in Chicago not knowing a lot about the city, other than a fact my friend had told me: it’s where the first ever skyscraper was built (the Home Insurance building, in 1885). I instantly pictured an overload of dark concrete and the feeling of being penned in — but happily, this couldn’t be further from the truth. The city centre winds around a broad river and every skyscraper is a historic, beautifully designed building, surrounded by wide roads that reach all the way to the waterfront. This is why people from Chicago are so nice, our taxi driver explains: 'Unlike in New York, the people here can breathe and we have a lot of space.'

This wouldn’t be the first comparison to the Big Apple — Chicago is known as the Second City, partly because it’s another city of note on the East Coast and also because it was built twice, the second time round after a huge fire. As my travel companion and I are both unashamed nerds, we jumped straight onto a boat tour, where we were guided through a timeline of the progression of the skyscraper. One building in particular caught our eye: a green-stone landmark with a gold top, designed to look like a champagne bottle and unmistakenly art deco. Pleasingly for us, it turned out to be our home for the next few nights: The Pendry Chicago, once the Carbide & Carbon building, which was created by the Burnham Bros in 1929.  

We were welcomed by top-tier American service — something I feel Brits are almost embarrassed to enjoy, or don’t know how to — and talked through the various areas of the hotel: a bar with a fireplace and soft sunken seating, a lounge to the left with complimentary cold mango juice and jasmine tea, and the atmospheric restaurant where we would eat most of our meals. We're then guided to the copper-plated and engraved lift. Everywhere you look there is gilding, embellishments, marble or more eye-pleasing geometric art deco design. The Pendry has put its mark on the interiors, but the design of the original building remains intact — the hotel offers guests a chance to stay in a gorgeous, historically significant building.

In true American style, everything in our room is big, especially the bed. The decor (art deco lamps, a marble bathroom, large windows framing downtown) nods to the building's heritage, while also feeling modern and new. We snacked on our welcome Garrett Mix popcorn, something we would later learn was an unmistakably Chicagoan treat, an addictive blend of cheddar and caramel — sweet, salty and so good.

After a quick refresh, we made our way downstairs for a drink at the chic bar — naturally, we just had to order champagne in homage to the building. Afterwards, we call in at the restaurant, adming the seafood counter, and ordering another bottle of bubbly and a plate of oysters so fresh we ate them without garnishes.

Jet lag and the change of time zones began to hit us, so we went for a quick invigorating walk down to the waterfront close to the Pendry. We walked out onto the pier and looked back at the city as it was lit up by the sunset. Here I contemplated the beauty of these man-made structures and wondered why more people don't visit Chicago. Appetite worked up, we succumbed to our bougie surroundings and ordered room service: more delights from the seafood counter and a club sandwich, which we eat in our ginormous bed and fall asleep watching Saturday Night Live.

In the morning, we both shuffle down to breakfast, where the wallpapered walls are drenched in light from the huge windows looking out onto the street — perfect for people-watching. The Americans do breakfast right — we ate blueberry pancakes with bacon and syrup, and countless cups of drip coffee refilled for us the moment our mugs dipped below half-full, another all-American ritual.

This is what The Pendry Chicago does perfectly. It's an undeniably luxurious modern American experience, but steeped in a kind of nostalgia too, as if every golden fixture and velvet chair were a memory of a glamour that never quite faded only evolved; where each corner of the lobby hums with the low murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses; and where stepping into the marble-floored entrance feels less like walking through a hotel and more like slipping momentarily into the pages of The Great Gatsby.