Ace Venture:

In an industry renowned for duplication instead of innovation, Seattle native Alex Calderwood may well be a 21st century Conrad Hilton in the making. Forever circumnavigating the planet in the search of all things groovy and ground breaking, it doesn't surprise us in the least that young Calderwood decided to launch Ace Hotel after recognizing there was an enormous gap in the market for boutique yet basic hotels. Having already found success with his Rudy's Barbershop chain and Sweet Mother Record label(collaborators on the forthcoming Wallpaper CD), Ace Hotel is a mega-chain waiting to happen. Located on the fringes of Seattle's city centre, Calderwood(and investors) bought an old rooming house and with the help of designer Eric Hentz transformed it into a basic yet brilliantly appointed hotel that is destined to be a bolt hole for aspiring young web designers, documentary directors and Sapporo club kids. Boasting an array of sassy street level businesses that ensure guests invest in the immediate community. With rooms starting at $65.00 a night, it's affordable for one night or nine weeks.

-Jay Mattsson

Innovators - They're on a Hip Trip:

Travel is the purest expression of freedom. Hop on a plane or train or get behind a wheel and in a few hours you can escape-from the routine, the familiar, to something new, exotic, liberating. But for years the travel industry has managed (or mismanaged) to drain much freedom and spontaneity out of travel. Planning a big summer trip with the kids? Better make reservations now. Want to take a flight that doesn't set you back a month's salary? Better buy your ticket weeks ahead of time. And God forbid you should want to change your plans later. That'll be $75.00, please- if you're lucky.

The impulse behind much innovation in travel these days is an effort to restore that spirit of freedom. As airlines merge into more impersonal behemoths, an innovation executive creates a low-price, customer-friendly carrier that gives flyers a real choice. Three entrepreneurs convert a Seattle halfway house into a chic inn that people can actually afford. A computer geek almost accidentally creates an online service that cuts through Web clutter to find lower fares. An aviator builds an inexpensive private jet that can almost fit in your garage-the ultimate escape vehicle. Sure, the rest of us still have to sit on overcrowded runways. But these innovators remind us that travel is not about trading the old paths. It's about finding new ones.

-Richard Zoglin

Ace: the place between boutique and cheap

Seattle buddies and night-life impresarios Wade Weigel and Alex Calderwood realized that there was really no place to stay for the people in their crowd-designers, DJs and other fashion-conscious urbanites. So with partner Doug Herrick they took over a former halfway house in a downtown neighborhood and created Ace, Seattle's new haven for flophouse chic-a mode that could be hospitality's next wave. "They're outsiders." says Ian Schrager, the pioneer of hip hotels. "Which is the way we were, and which I like."

Ace is a kind of super-aesthetic barrack, with an in-the-know economy of style. Vintage French army blankets cover the low-to-the ground beds, and institutional stainless-steel sinks are bolted to the wall. Floor-to-ceiling photo murals and graffiti art offer the only adornments, while a glowing white cube on the floor helps illuminate. Instead of chocolates and a Bible, the Ace offers a couple of condoms and the Kama Sutra. Most of the rooms are no bigger than they were when the Peniel Mission ran the place, but rates haven't gone up much either: prices start and $65.

Oh, did we mention the half a dozen bathrooms shared by 15 guest rooms? "That wasn't our first plan," says Herrick, "but that's all we can afford."

While the Ace's owners build additional rooms, they are also thinking about creating more properties. "You can apply this to almost any industry," says Calderwood. "It sounds corny, but what about fry cleaners? Why doesn't anyone make that cool and interesting?" No Starch please; we're from Seattle.

-Mark D. Fefer

Metro: Opening Up Paring Down

Seattle Belltown, the birthplace of grunge rock, is now home the new Ace Hotel. Owners Doug Herrick, Wade Weigel, and Alex Calderwood ( Weigel and Calderwood are responsible for a number of hip clubs)wanted to create a home for the trend-seeking, budget conscience traveler. The rooms are fresh and understated, with loft-like ceilings and army blankets on platform beds (and a copy of the Kama Sutra beside them). Single rooms have communal bathrooms ($75); junior suites ($150) have their own.

Seattle is best known for three things: non-stop rain, the birthplace of Grunge music, and the home of massive, new-economy corporations such as Microsoft and Starbucks. But somewhere amid the city's gray skies and high-tech inhabitants, there lies the Ace. A 24 room low-tech, high style hotel which deftly caters to the city's low-key leisurely citizens and visitors.

The Ace debuted in 1999, in and early 20th century rooming house in the city's Belltown quarter, once warren of down-in -the luck drifters and today, a renovated urban gem. Most of the hotel's previous skeleton was kept in place, such as its layout and room configuration. This means that bathrooms are shared by those in hotel's smallish rooms, while suites boast private WC's and showers. This philosophy might seem low -end, but the Ace has purposely kept the amenities to a minimum in order to keep rates- which beginning in the $75 range- low as well.

The Ace's aesthetic is courtesy of local architects Wade Weigel and Alex Calderwood, both veterans of Seattle's retail and club scene, along with designer Eric Hentz, of Mullet, Inc. At the Ace, the trio have created an intensely stark and minimalist décor, where white reigns king and wood and brick serve as polished princes. The hotel is big on making small spaces appear larger. Ceilings for instance are high, while beds in the rooms lay low, and sundry furnishings are kept to a minimum in a effort to maximize and magnify space. Optical illusions were also employed in the architect's choice of building materials, such as enamel paints, medium grade fiberboard and inexpensive rugs-but are treated to mimic pricier products like porcelain panels and luxurious carpeting.

The lobby - which was from an old light well - has been purposely kept drenched in white, save for a dark, rich walnut wood floor, and boasts "found" furnishings which reflect local Seattle industries. Vintage benches from Thonet come courtesy of Boeing and once held court in and old airport lounge, while stainless steel vanities in each suite were sourced from a defunct nursing home.

In the rooms, copies of Kama Sutra - rather than Bibles- serve as inspiration in spaces set with platform beds covered in army issued bedding. The shared shower/bathrooms do give the Ace a grown up "youth hostel" sort of feel, but then again, for grown ups working in the high tech industry or touring as some rock band.For this is the Ace's clientele - hip urbanites in for a visit who like a lick of luxury, but don't necessarily need all the indulgences of typical high-class hotel's.

-Jay Mattsson

The Ace Located in Seattle's Belltown neighborhood (the birthplace of grunge), the hotel features a spartan, futuristic design and attracts a varied clientele- trendsetting artists, Web designers, snowboarders, filmmakers and nomads- who like to don there Pumas and explore the area's Pike Place Market, the Space Needle and the chronically hip shops and Café's.

The hotel: Ace Hotel, Seattle

The big idea: sleep beneath an outside visual of gushing Pacific Northwest rivers and spooky forests for dreams with a distinct Twin Peaks twist.

Get the look: blow up photos, laminate them or translate on to fabric. It's a retro kitsch 70's thing. For your own "muriel" - as Hilda Ogden would say -choose from an exotic, tropical, and rural scenes at EW Moore & Son (0181 472 0521)

To book in: 001 206-448-4721

Program:

Cash-counscious urban nomads flock to Seattle's Ace Hotel for a fusion of European pension and minimalist luxury. "We didn't set out to be hip- if you do that you're already out of it- we just wanted an alternative to the standard hotel experience," says part-owner/operator Doug Herrick. The white- on- white interior, stainless-steel fittings, and picture- postcard photomurals provide a low- key backdrop for visiting DJs, filmmakers, and lifestyle journalists.

The hotel is on the second floor of a former early- 20th century maritime flophouse in Belltown, now a stylish neighborhood on the fringe of downtown. To keep rates affordable (rooms start at $65 a night), the existing hotel layout was left in place with minor alterations to accommodate 15 standard rooms and 9 suites. Guests mingle in bathrobes on the way down the hall to six toilet/shower facilities shared youth- hostel style by the standard rooms. Each suite has a private white- tiled bath concealed behind an oversized pivoting door.

Solution/Intention:

A steep flight of crisply detailed walnut stairs leads to a reception desk on the 2nd floor. "Welcome" is formidably engraved on the limestone face of the reception desk but the cheekiness of a 10- foot- square Technicolor photomural of Mt. Shuskan takes the edge off self- consciousness.

The lobby, a dazzling white volume carved out of an old light well, lies directly to the left of the reception desk. The simplicity of the tall narrow space encapsulated by glossy white fiberboard panels provides an otherworldly transition from the street. "It opens your mind to the whole experience," says designer Eric Hentz. A strip of skylight, the only outside opening, suffuses the space with glowing light under even the most limpid gray sky.

All interior surfaces, including the worn plank floors, wood molding, and rough brick walls, are painted stark white. Phones, clock radios, and even remote controls are also white to reduce visual clutter. Low platform beds, 14- foot ceilings, and large double- hung windows create an illusion of spaciousness in the spartan rooms. Other furnishings- mostly stainless steel and bolted to the wall- are kept to a minimum: a sink, a desk- height shelf, and tiny open ended cubes for bedside storage. "You are beautiful," stenciled on then bottom of each mirror, diffuses the institutional look.

To stretch a tight budget, the design relies on common materials used in innovative ways. High- gloss enamel paint on medium- density fiberboard mimics expensive porcelain panels on the stair and lobby walls. The chocolate brown carpet running down the hallways is coir- a coconut husk material usually used for brush- off mats.

Natural materials effectively play against high- tech materials throughout the interior. The dense grain of black walnut floor adds another layer of detail and interest to an otherwise monotone lobby. In the large interconnected suites at the back of the hotel, walnut paneling inset with a long horizontal mirror covers an entire wall.

For economy, as well as local flavor, many of the furnishings are salvaged from unlikely sources. The vintage modern Thonet Bench in the lobby is from Boeing surplus and once graced an old airport lounge. The stainless- steel vanities mounted in the suites are from a demolished nursing home. Replacing the ubiquitous floral bedspreads found in most hotels are circa 1950 French military blankets with "Service Sante De l'Armeee" marching along the bottom edge.

Commentary:

Austere modernism, organic forms, and a dab of street culture come together in an ordered yet fresh mix. "The trick is in then proportions of rough and smooth, sweet and sour", says Hentz. The hotel's design embraces both the natural and the machined, the high and the low. For example, Hentz places a rough coir next to stainless- steel furnishings in guest rooms and juxtaposes tongue- in- the cheek photomurals with original oil paintings.

What could have been too cool, even cold, is inviting instead, thanks to the sense of comfort, and fun, running throughout the project. "We want people to look good in the rooms," says Herrick. Soft light from frosted- white Plexiglass cubes and a few strategically places mirrors flatter everyone's image. Works by emerging artists such as graffitist Kaws and pop- culture satirists Ken Sakuri and Dave O'Regan enliven the guestrooms.

With glass transoms over every door and the predominance of hard surfaces, the Ace may not be the quietest place to sleep at night. Perhaps in this hotel- where a copy of the Kama Sutra replaces the standard issue Bible- that might just be a part of the ambience.

-Sheri Olsen. AIA

Overnight at the Ace

I slither into the Cyclops in Belltown and inquire about the new neighbor, the Ace Hotel. I'm told about it in the you-know-or-you-don't tone. I know, so I sneak off to the lobby, where a gorgeous trio of scenester- specimens inform me that the hotel is booked for the evening with the staff of New York's cutting- edge Paper Magazine and the Portland- based band Pink Martini. But these three aren't the band members; they're the owners of the Ace Hotel. Maybe there is something they can do.

Don't let their 20- something faces fool you. Alex Calderwood is a partner on Aro.space, Tasty Shows, Sweet Mother Recordings and Rudy's Barbershop. Wade Weigel, also a partner in Rudy's masterminded the Baltic Room, The Cha Cha Lounge, and Bimbo's Bitchin' Burrito Kitchen. Doug Herrick is a peripatetic native who returned to Seattle to be an equal third in the stroke of genius. "We're all about creating a really interesting space that has a steady and interesting vibe to it," Herrick says. "The whole goal is to lower people's boundaries and have them want to meet people and just hang out."

I plan to drink on this in the Panther Room and the Cylcops and order a Metaxa Sidecar, but my mind stays in the Ace. I could club hop all night and then stop for a nightcap. No 0.8 worries, with my bed nearby.

I saunter over the the Ace's lobby where the band casually invites me back to their suite, I'm dreaming a little now. They tinker with guitars, and I lean against and enormous mirror.

Viola! the mirror turns on an invisible axis and I am in a private bathroom. A wide- open space with sexy white tile, white sink, white walls. One giant tulip in a vase suction-supped to the sink's mirror adorns the room.

The communal bathrooms are just as sexy: white dimmed lighting, a shower big enough to fit me and the band, though I'll settle for singing solo to Beck piped in through the wall.

I head back to my room, lay on the bare- bones, headboard less bed. Just a simple, sparse environment that says the experience is there for the making. The room creates a frame to spotlight any personality, instead of competing with personalities that enter it.

I stare at the fourteen- foot ceiling, and listen to the sounds off First Avenue. The people below drive out of the heart of the night to annexed abodes. Not me.

A light cube illuminates the room with an almost aching hint of neon. I heave a sigh of relief. No floral bedspreads, no ornate dressers, no complimentary hairnets, no placards advertising the availability of 80 channels plus a pay- per- view array. Pillow versions of the Kama Sutra and colored condoms have replaced the pillow mint.

I leave the room and head back to the lobby in search of night prowlers.

"Another Sidecar, Sara ?" Bartender Neff wants to know. I shake off my reverie and smile a slower smile than I've allowed in weeks. "Not tonight," I say.

-Sarah Flygare

CRASHING Beds and Breakbeats

Punk had the Chelsea. Rock had the Chateau Marmont. Now electronica's got the Ace. Seattle's Ave Hotel has become the stopover for Moby, Portishead, and anyone else traveling through town with a synthesizer.

The rooms, which price out a reasonable $65 to $175, offer a spacious, futuristic look, and a techno-savy staff at the front desk pipes in music throughout the building. No reports of Keith Moon- style television tosses from the fifth- floor window or Cadillacs being driven into the pool… but fear not, the hotel has yet to secure a liquor license.