Hotel china

We recently replaced the clunky stoneware vats we’d been drinking our coffee out of with these slim bone-china beauties. They’re from the Hotel collection at Macy’s. Those who have drunk from them, and who have opinions about coffee mugs, approve. They aren’t very heavy and the tall slender shape keeps the contents warmer longer. They have the same 16-oz capacity as the vats, too.

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I don’t have any plain white dishes, and since this stuff is so well priced–especially if you hold out for a sale–I briefly considered putting some place settings on my wish list. Then I went back to the store and handled the dishes. My lands, they are so bright white. My lands, their glaze is so smooth and perfect. And my lands, they make such expensive-sounding clinks when you stack them.

I decided not to get any regular dishes from this line. We’re barrelling into several years of small-children-friendly living, and I don’t want to be intimidated by my own dishes that way. But yes, they were very tempting, in a grown-up lavish kind of way. The Hotel dishes really would make you feel like you were eating in a fancy resort hotel. And there are Hotel sheets and Hotel towels too, how exciting is that?

Which got me thinking. I’ve recently decided that restaurants aren’t such a great thing, after all. They’re expensive, inconvenient, take up a lot of time, and more often than not unhealthful. Most of the time, I’d honestly rather eat at home than eat out, even down to the cooking and cleaning up part. So why should dishes that remind me of overpriced, under-flavored resort food excite me?

And have you ever actually been to a hotel where the bed was more comfortable than your own? I haven’t. And have you ever actually been to a hotel where the towels were thick and luxurious and exciting? I haven’t. Maybe I’ve been going to the wrong hotels, but my own bed is always softer and crisper, my own towels always thicker and thistier, and my own coffee always better.

But the branding does totally get me. I guess in my mind there’s a hotel where the bed is plush and cool and smooth and I sleep well in it, where room service is prompt and tasty and not too expensive, and with an exciting bathroom full of super-plush exciting towels where, I guess, I will enjoy my shower or tub soak every bit as much as I enjoy the pool and beach. It’s there, somewhere, in my mind.

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