THE GRITTI PALACE: RESTORER OF THE SOUL

Ciao, ragazzi, come va? Andiamo a Gritti! This is the mantra said by the devoted, the rallying cry heard from the farflung reaches of the universe for those in the know — and I mean really in the know when it’s time to de-stress, decompress, ruminate and genuflect. For the Gritti Palace is more than a hotel, more even than the refuge of the truly elegant minority in a world in which affluence and taste are increasingly dichotomous. When in need of restoration of the body, mind and spirit, there is no more potent resuscitator of the soul than the Gritti Palace. For the denizens of Bar Longhi, the habitués of the Hemingway presidential suite, and the citizens of the republic of the Riva Lounge, the Gritti Palace is the nectar that edifies and uplifts. Upon first meeting Lauren King and her husband, the restaurateur, hotelier and rake extraordinaire Jeremy, I made mention of my impending sojourn to Venice. The effusive and charming King raised her eyebrows and spoke only two syllables: “Gritti?” With my assent, the three of us immediately knew we were going to get along swimmingly. Lauren would add: “Give our regards to Paolo [Lorenzoni, the property’s extraordinary General Manager]. The Gritti is my happy place.”