#Dorchester Hotel

[babsi-and-stella]

Marianne Faithfull at the Dorchester Hotel, November 1979. Photo by Allan Olley.

[guy60660]

Richard Harris | Peter O’Toole | Dorchester Hotel

[jerrbear508]

Whitney Houston at Dorchester Hotel in London, UK on March 15th, 1988 

Photographer: Steve Rapport 

[vidhingu]

As a part of visual research, I got a chance to explore Dorchester hotel. Located in Mayfair, the hotel has a lovely rooftop with bar and dining.

It allowed me to explore the area and the views were stunning. With this, I could experience and gauge how it would be like to view the sky and the land from a distance and height.

[lavitaliz]

LIVING IN SIN

[movietonight]

I wonder what hotel Billy Joel is staying at in London

[hotelbooking]

Coworth Park - Dorchester Collection At Always get the assistance you need with front desk services including concierge service, express check-in or check-out, luggage storage and safety deposit boxes. Booking the best tickets and getting the hottest restaurant reservations are made easy with help from the hotel's ticket service and tours. For longer stays or whenever you need it, the dry cleaning service and laundry service keep your favorite travel outfits clean and available. Feel like doing nothing? Available services like room service and daily housekeeping let you get the most out of your time at the For health reasons, smoking is not permitted anywhere inside the hotel. For guests who would like to smoke, the designated smoking areas are available. All rooms at Bathroom amenities are just as important as others, and at the hotel you'll find a hair dryer and toiletries available in some guest bathrooms. A number of great dining options at the hotel assures that you'll always...

[wellourgerdes]

The Dorchester Hotel London

The Dorchester Hotel, London, UK The Dorchester Hotel, London, UK is a five-star Mayfair hotel, 1930s classic luxury hotel in Mayfair, with views over Hyde Park, is less than a mile from the tube station and designer stores of New Bond Street. Offering afternoon tea, exceptional service, superb breakfasts, a Michelin-starred restaurant and classic rooms,   Chic, uniquely styled rooms come with…

[skyer0cks]

David and lou, at the Dorchester Hotel in London, England, in 1972

[nevebella]

Sharon at the Dorchester Hotel in London, 1966.

[stylecouncil]

Dorchester Hotel, 1972 📸: Mick Rock

[citizenscreen]

Danny Kaye and Richard Attenborough at the Dorchester Hotel, London, for a Variety Club of Great Britain luncheon in 1954.

[world-of-celebs]

Catherine Zeta-Jones photographed by John Stoddart at the Dorchester Hotel on Park Lane in London, England on 22nd January, 1992.

[lavitaliz]

WHAT EVER LIZ WANTS, LIZ GETS

[philibetexcerpts]

5 May 1948: The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, and Princess Margaret attended a charity ball held at the Dorchester Hotel, in aid of King George’s Fund for Sailors.

[indiaalphawhiskey]

fake fic title! "crescent moons fix broken hearts"

would love it if it could be hl? 👀

Sorry this took so long! I really needed to write something today to flex the muscle, I hope you and @awesomefringey (who submitted the t-shirt pic) like it. 🥰 (I tried to post this twice with a moodboard but Tumblr wouldn’t let me. 😒)

🌙 Crescent Moons Fix Broken Hearts

Sitting in the en suite of the lavish hotel room, the soft lighting of the vanity illuminating the planes of his face, Harry let the radical irony of what he was about to do wash over him.

It was a weird thing, he realized, this feeling of waiting for a moment your entire life – preserving it, building it up – only to have it finally, finally come in a form so different it was almost laughable.

Not almost. Harry did laugh.

Half because he caught sight of his ridiculously nervous expression in the mirror, and half because apparently, one minute someone could be the perfect pure, virginal (if a little sexually frustrated) Omega groom-to-be fitting their bespoke wedding suit in at a highly exclusive designer shop, and three days later, be that very same Omega, revenge and wildly expensive tequila shooting through their veins as they booked their would-have-been honeymoon suite to have raunchy sex with an Alpha they’d hired specifically to finally deflower them, once and for all.

Turns out getting dumped in a Saville Row dressing room because one’s ex-fiancé thought they were quote, “an uppity, frigidly cold fish who he probably had no sexual chemistry with anyway”, unquote, really lit a fire under one’s arse.

Harry flared his nose in anger, his thoughts murderous as images of his beautiful, wasted wedding invitations danced back into his mind, haunting him. His cheeks began their now familiar pinkening with his remembered humiliation, and then…

A soft knock unfortunately interrupted Harry’s montage of fantastic daydreams of running over every single one of his ex-fiancé’s prized watches to the intro of Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song.

“Come in,” he called out gently – or as gently as one could through gritted teeth.

As the door slid away, the unfamiliar, unassuming coolness of rosemary and sage rolled in slowly. Harry wasn’t used to it; accustomed to sharing spaces with the scent of warm whiskey and leather layered with that wretchedly expensive cologne Harry had always hated.

But back to the sage.

Sage, and rosemary, and cedar, and… he let the last note tickle his nose as he tried to name it.

“Are you okay?” Louis Tomlinson asked.

… and soap, Harry realized, oddly comforted even as he wondered whether the name was a pseudonym; wondered if it was standard procedure to print such a convincing alias on a discreet calling card that would eventually be passed across an elegant brunch table at the Dorchester.

(‘Niall, don’t be absurd,’ Harry had sniffed, trying his best to push the card back towards him without making a scene. ‘Jesus, just be normal and introduce me to one of your investment bankers, or something.’

Niall had given him a long, silent, and completely unimpressed look in response, glancing down at the engagement ring Harry was still wearing, if only to make a point. Ouch.

‘Harry, trust me. After this shitshow, you of all people deserve an orgasm on the first go. Treat yourself.’)

“I’m alright.” The polite platitude was out of his mouth accompanied by a reserved smile through the mirror before he could stop it.

It wasn’t like he could tell the truth anyway; not like he could say, ‘No, actually. I’m fucking livid, because a week ago I was about to be married, and today my financial manager called to ask if my credit card had been stolen because there was a suspicious charge from RoyaLT Enterprises for a ‘Platinum Package – All Inclusive’ on it when I was assured this service would be discreet, goddamnit!’

He bit his tongue, mostly because Harry didn’t tell Louis about the jilting; had decided against it the moment he had clicked ‘Platinum’, the description reading ‘two-week session with certified heat coach (Alpha) focused on scent familiarity, building sexual rapport, and discussing intimacy needs in addition to agreed heat cycle partnership.’

A virgin who had saved himself for marriage only to be jilted a week before his wedding because he was, in fact, a virgin, paying for sex and intimacy, trapped in a room with someone who really shouldn’t be as attractive as he had turned out to be… It had all just felt a little too humiliating.

Which, speaking of…

“Sorry,” Harry blurted out softly now, slowly coming to his senses. He turned to face Louis, his eyes widening. “We’re… we’re on the clock, aren’t we? Am I… I’m wasting your time?”

Louis chuckled softly – kindly, really – and casually leaned against the door frame, crossing his ankles. He was shirtless, Harry only now realized, as he watched him slip both hands into the pockets of his silk pajama bottoms, making them ride dangerously low against his happy trail.

Louis shook his head. “You’re supposed to take your time, get comfortable with me.” He raised his hand to gesture to himself – what he was wearing, and then the space between them. “This is all part of it.” He grinned wide, and Harry had noticed he was handsome when they’d met, but the genuine warmth of his smile is what made it. (Well, his smile, and his abs, and the still respectable but no less impressive hint of a bulge in his pajama bottoms…) “It’s called the boyfriend package for a reason.”

Funny, Harry thought then, feeling just a little bit… well, a little bit wet. He’d never had a boyfriend who looked quite like this.

Niall’s wise words began to reverberate in his mind: ‘Treat yourself.’

Harry bit back a cheeky smile. He intended to.

— Or, When Harry Styles did things, he did them right. Why should losing his virginity be any different?