TRAVEL > New York: Royalton Hotel

NYTIMES.COM: The Royalton, opened by Ian Schrager in 1988, still looks good and still attracts a crowd, even if it's not the everybody-who's-anybody crowd of a decade ago.

THE BASICS The fellow who brought breakfast to the door gave a good-morning grin - was chatty, even. At any other lodging, this would be a good thing. Parsing solicitude at the Royalton, however, is more complicated. Indifference by the runway-ready help was a hallmark of the 169-room Royalton after Ian Schrager and partners opened it in 1988. Seventeen years later, how is the country's first hotel-as-happening holding up? The verdict: This aging party girl still looks good in Mr. Schrager's dim mood lighting and still attracts a crowd, even if it's not the everybody-who's-anybody crowd of a decade ago.

THE LOBBY AND BAR The Royalton's centerpiece remains the Philippe Starck-designed lobby-cum-bar where those checking in still must walk that long, royal-blue carpet (runway?) where, in an earlier era, each entrant was sized up. Five years ago, most of the original white, chrome-legged chairs and sofas in the lobby were fitted with white slipcovers. That, plus the cranked techno music makes the place feels as if Miss Havisham had held a rave.

THE CROWD In the early 1990's, the hotel's restaurant, 44 at the Royalton, was known as Club Condé because the top of the Condé Nast masthead -Tina Brown, Graydon Carter, et al. - had regular power lunches there. That heyday may be past, but by midmorning on an autumn weekday the adjacent bar's sunken area was already filled: a fashion journalist in cowboy boots conducted an interview, a woman showed high-end cosmetics to buyers. By cocktail hour, the place filled again with young suits in recline - and every sofa remained occupied at 11 p.m. One thing that the Royalton can still do is make the terminally unhip feel a little queasy. A man (thin, bespectacled, tuxedoed) and his wife (large, draped in what appeared to be a sequined shower curtain) walked the blue carpet, looked nervously about. She took his hand. Still thirsty, they found the exit.

THE ROOMS Reaching the guest rooms via hallways of twilight blue-purple is like walking through a Coen brothers movie. But the rooms brighten - the dark wood and grays offset by white linens and walls - and are bigger than some New York apartments. The queen bed, covered with a feather duvet, was reasonably comfortable , if not particularly firm. Some pieces of furniture were a tad scuffed. The turndown service never materialized.

THE BATHROOMS The deep greenish slate that bordered the guest room filled the entire bathroom, including the glass-fronted shower stall, creating a roomy, handsome space of glass, stone and chrome. (Some rooms at the same price can have bathtubs, so if you would like one, ask.) Agua bath products stood next to a fresh orchid and a cup of fading lavender buds. The mediocre bath towels felt oddly incongruent, as if they belonged in a Days Inn that had run out of fabric softener.

AMENITIES A small gym - two treadmills, two bikes, an elliptical trainer, a StairMaster, some shiny barbells - is shoehorned into a room-size space on the fourth floor. In the rooms, Wi-Fi Internet service is available for $10. Rooms have CD players and a generously stocked minibar. A free morning paper is delivered.

ROOM SERVICE Breakfast arrived (with that unexpected smile) in the 15-minute period asked for - a Midtown Benedict of just-runny-enough eggs topped with shaved salmon and hollandaise, and a wickedly sticky bun from Balthazar. There's a $5 fee for room service, and an 18 percent tip is added.

THE BOTTOM LINE If the bleeding edge is where your black-and-red Louis Vuitton yearns to rest, there are hotter spots than the slightly scuffed Royalton. But a hotel with a gossip-pages pedigree, a good breakfast and a still-sexy bar? That never goes completely out of style. Rates range from $365 to $685 depending on the season. The Royalton is at 44 West 44th Street; 212-869-4400; www.royaltonhotel.com.