” The Bogota used to share its walls with a bedraggled, old hooker-bar, which I loved. It was low-lit, with stained velvet banquettes and stained, jolly ladies-of-the-night. In bustiers and fishnets, les girls sometimes stood outside, under a blinking neon sign, right next to the steps of the hotel. Until last year. Now the “piano bar” has become a kitchen design centre, another deathly tendril from the rest of Europe that will one day turn Berlin into everywhere else. Soon, I suppose, the Bogota will change with the prevailing weather into The Four Seasons.”

—Rupert Everett