The Battery San Francisco

It’s just after dark when my car pulls up in front of what is allegedly luxury hotel the Battery: a nondescript building on a quiet San Francisco side street. I step out of my Uber (the chariot of choice in this tech-obsessed city) and give the brick edifice a once over. I’m contemplating whether I’ve been duped by my driver, or if this is some sort of Alice in Wonderland magic trick where a turn through the door will lead to an alternate – and hopefully more design-centric – world. Then, a flock of laughing women spill through that very door and onto the street. Mystery solved.

A little context: the Battery itself is a members’ club-slash-hotel. A sort of Soho House for the tech set. And, like similar clubhouse concepts, it plays the role of meeting venue by day before converting into a hip, see-and-be-seen sort of place after dark.

I grab my bags, push through the aforementioned doors and find myself an unwitting guest of a buzzing Thursday night fete. To my left, cliques of women stroll up and down the stairs, cocktails in hand, and ahead, groups of friends crowd into dimly lit banquettes while others spill out onto a wide terrace, taking advantage of the mild California night.

If I weren’t still holding a boarding pass confirming that I’d just landed in San Francisco, I’d be inclined to think I was still in New York. The scene in the hotel is lively and sophisticated. ‘So this is where the city’s fashionable set have been hiding away,’ I think; though, the area’s de facto uniform – a fleece Patagonia pullover – was still on prominent display among the men. Signs are posted near the bar, instructing members to please put away their phones after 6pm – an effort to nudge guests in the direction of good, old-fashioned, app-free fun.

I finally spot a front desk discreetly tucked into a corner of the entry hall. Check-in is deftly handled, and moments later I’m in a glass elevator, rapidly rising above the fray and emerging into a quiet hallway. My room is generously sized by any city’s standards. The focal-point of the space, a sleek, metal four-poster bed with downy white linens, calls my name, but I’m meeting a friend in the bar, so I hold out. I peek into the bathroom (bigger than most New York studio apartments) and note an egg-shaped tub and sizable rain shower. Also, a super-soft robe (a hotel essential in my mind), which I want to hibernate in. But, my friend is waiting for me downstairs, so I splash water on my face and I’m soon headed to the lounge.

The evening passes in a blur of excellent California wines and even better bar food, especially the burgers. Unlike New York, the scene dies down early here, and soon I’m back upstairs donning that robe. I sneak a bite of the freshly-baked cookies left on my bedside table before switching off the light and slipping into bed.

In the morning, I rise and step out onto my narrow private terrace. It’s a little chilly for my AM cup of tea, but affords an engaging city view. When I emerge for breakfast, the lobby is transformed completely from its nighttime persona. In the previously-packed banquettes, a few duos confer in hushed tones as they pick at egg whites and avocado toast. There’s a subdued ‘power breakfast’ ambience.

I order my own plate of organic grains and eggs (when in California!) and stroll around admiring the masterful mid-century modern design. The Battery’s one of those places that breezily throws together velvet, metal, jewel tones and bold prints without looking over-the-top. I snap a picture of a chair that I’d like to relocate to my own living room and am quietly chastised by the staff. Like most members’ clubs, this is a strictly photo-free zone: there will be no artful ‘avo on toast’ Instagrams.

The hotel offers enticements aplenty: a spa, library, plenty of pretty nooks…  But, I decide to explore the city after breakfast. I make it exactly one block on foot before seeking out an Uber. You see, the benefit of being one of the first businesses to gentrify an otherwise quiet, industrial neighborhood is great space, street cred and, of course, lower rents. The downside is that there’s not much to see in the Battery’s immediate vicinity. But, San Francisco is compact and nothing is ever more than a quick car ride away.

Upon my return, the same merry crowd greets me. And though I have already committed to a date with my room-service menu and a bubble bath, it’s a delight just to know that all the beautiful humans are buzzing about in the rooms below me.

All one can really ask for from an urban escape is a bit of possibility. Want a raucous night on the town? At the Battery you can indulge and still keep your hotel slippers on. Prefer a quiet escape far from the rabble? Your serene room will happily oblige. Suffice it to say, in San Francisco this place is undeniably one-of-a-kind.