A highlight of my last trip to Japan was sampling the country’s remarkably diverse styles of lodging. The first week found me in rustic ryokan, sleeping on tatami mats, slipping into a yukata, and soaking in geothermal baths beneath the stars. Later, in Nara, I stayed in a lovingly restored machiya, a 19th-century merchant townhouse converted into a boutique inn.
In Tokyo, I checked into Imperial Hotel Tokyo, Japan’s iconic Western-style grand dame. Nicknamed the Jewel of the Orient, it has welcomed foreign dignitaries, captains of industry, and Hollywood stars since 1890. It’s Tokyo’s answer to New York City’s Plaza Hotel—a venerated institution synonymous with opulence, impeccable service, and timeless elegance.
The Ghosts of Meiji and Frank Lloyd Wright
When it opened in 1890, the Imperial Hotel Tokyo embodied the Western-facing spirit of Meiji Japan. It quickly became the hotel of choice for the growing ranks of diplomats, industrialists, and businessmen arriving in Tokyo.
In 1923, the American architectural giant Frank Lloyd Wright redesigned the property. Wright, an avid Japanophile, was a natural fit for the commission. The architectural movement he pioneered, the Prairie School, drew inspiration from Japanese motifs like clean horizontal lines, simplicity, and harmony with the surrounding landscape. He was also one of the world’s foremost collectors of Japanese woodblock prints.
Wright’s Imperial Hotel was demolished in the late 1960s to make way for a larger property, but preservationists painstakingly dismantled its lobby and reflecting pool before reconstructing them at Museum Meiji-mura in Aichi Prefecture. Visitors can still admire them there today.
The present-day hotel took shape under Japanese architect Teitaro Takahashi, an admirer of Wright. Especially if you’ve visited Fallingwater, Taliesin, or New York’s Guggenheim Museum, you’ll recognize echoes of Wright’s design vocabulary throughout the property. My girlfriend, an architecture student, pointed out how our room’s floor-to-ceiling windows framed Hibiya Park as a living work of art—a classic Wrightian touch.
Tokyo in High Style
The Imperial Hotel had earned my gratitude even before I checked in. For days, we had struggled to secure reservations at some of Tokyo’s hottest restaurants. I finally wised up and emailed the concierge. Within hours, they had booked us tables.
As soon as we stepped inside, we were dazzled. The lobby, a soaring marble chamber anchored by a grand staircase, exuded all the hushed grandeur of a Gothic cathedral. A central flower arrangement as large as a Prius competed with a magnificent chandelier as the hall’s pièce de résistance.
Our suite on the ninth floor treated us to sweeping views of Hibiya Park. With a king-size bed, a jacuzzi bath stocked with onsen salts, and a high-end espresso machine, the room was fit for royalty. I was also tickled to see Victorian flourishes like a writing desk and a brass newspaper holder outside the door.
After a power nap, we indulged in the venerable Tokyo pastime of ginbura—a leisurely afternoon of strolling, window-shopping, and grazing through the streets of Ginza. The district reminded me of Madison Avenue, an enclave of haute fashion, Michelin-starred restaurants, and the heady perfume of wealth.
We ducked into a charming French café for cappuccinos and canelés. As the caffeine and sugar kicked in, I felt an all-too-familiar antsiness creeping up my spine. Lust: unadulterated, uncontrollable, and rising to a fever pitch. I looked pleadingly at my girlfriend, and she rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming. There would be no reasoning with me. I would not rest until I’d slaked my desire: the Grand Seiko flagship.
I resisted the temptation to empty my bank account on luxury watches, but I scratched a similar itch at M Whisky Shop Ginza, home to the world’s greatest collection of Japanese whisky. When I reminisce about the pour of Yamazaki 25 I sipped, I still get goosebumps.
We dined at Pizza Studio Tamaki, a superb Tokyo pizzeria that the Imperial Hotel concierge had booked for us. After blistered-crust bliss, Old Imperial Bar beckoned for a nightcap. Beside a stone mosaic designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, we sipped a hinoki-infused martini and a neat pour of Hakushu 18. Back in our room, we soaked in the jacuzzi bath and fell into the deep slumber that follows a full day of joyous travel.
I rarely eat breakfast, but I make an exception at Japanese hotels. A traditional Japanese breakfast is a multi-course feast served in a constellation of bowls, cups, and bento boxes. A friend who covers Tokyo’s restaurant scene for The New York Times had tipped me off that the Imperial Hotel’s breakfast was legendary, and it proved one of my favorite meals of the trip. Grilled fish and sashimi. House-made natto and artisanal shoyu. Pickles, fresh seasonal vegetables, fragrant sencha. A postprandial espresso. All that was missing was another pour of Hakushu 18, but it was only 8 a.m.
If you have a second morning, try the Western-style breakfast at the hotel’s Parkside Diner. With its polished steel trim and leather booths, it’s like a Midtown diner plopped down in Ginza. The dishes—fried eggs with home fries, pancakes, corned beef hash—would be at home in a café in Wisconsin or a lunch counter in Jersey, yet little details remain unmistakably Japanese. The presentation of the eggs. The delicate airiness of the pancakes. A garnish of koji-pickled greens. It’s Japanified Western comfort—a signature style the Imperial Hotel has spent more than a century perfecting.
