It's always great to see a familiar face when visiting a city, although to be fair, you never really know where Templeton Peck is going to be at any given point in time. Giving you one up north that's not handsomely conning some dude out of an Abrams tank: Mondrian SoHo.
NYC's the home of the third Mondrian property, this one a 270-room stunner welcoming guests through what looks like a well-heeled Ewok village decked with cocoon-like hanging lights, into a lobby straight out of a really fancy Dr. Seuss book complete with fantastical fuzzy blue trees, before ushering you up to rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows and iPads, as the real reason you came to NY was to play Angry Birds on an even bigger screen. Because New York's a bore anyway, you basically don't even have to leave the joint, thanks to a club and resto inside, that latter of which's seafood haven Imperial No. Nine: a giant greenhouse with a massive chandelier plating everything from Iberico pork belly w/ seared toro to a rotating catch of the day, even though it will generally be made by Torii Hunter. After that, it's time to Dougie in the aforementioned Asian-themed club Mister H., named in honor of its totally imaginary owner, and decked with huge trees, plush couches, ornate rugs, random gramophones, tons of red, and a sign assuring patrons that it's not a brothel, so that certainly sucks.
If you're totally insane and actually plan on doing work at this place, they're set up for that too, with a private-terraced meeting space, all manner of A/V equipment, and even wardrobe, makeup, and casting rooms, into which you can bring Bradley Cooper, and stab him right in the Face.