Check out this behind-the-scenes video of artist Vince Dumoulin executing the vision of designer Robert Bailey as he converts the restaurant formerly known as Elixir into the pop-restaurant concept called One Hundred Days. The restaurant is receiving rave reviews. Have you checked it out yet? Better soon – in a blink of an eye it’ll be gone.

Back in 2001, while OPUS Vancouver was under construction, we used to sneak away from the cramped opening offices to see how the hotel was evolving, and were always surprised and excited by what we saw. That surprise and excitement continues to this day, thanks in part to the talents of Robert Bailey, OPUS Hotels’ interior designer. On the heels of the launch of the hotel’s refreshed suites and “pop-up” restaurant One Hundred Days, I thought it was high time we heard from the source.

Tell us about the fresh new look of the suites at OPUS Vancouver.
My intention was to build on the success of the original décor schemes, and turn up the volume. We kept the saturated colour, brightening and updating it. I have always loved the work of decorators from the 70’s like David Hicks.  Their use of colour and pattern was so pervasive; it actually expands space rather than breaking it up. With this thesis in mind we kept the palette very monochromatic, but mixed numerous patterns for an eclectic (more residential) effect.  Although the rooms are timely, the play of pattern and saturated colour brings warmth and a sense of history.

High drama: one of the newly refreshed penthouse suites at OPUS

Tell us about the redesign of Elixir, now One Hundred Days.
Owner John deC Evans came to us with the intent to create a pop-up restaurant to bridge the end of Elixir and the launch of a new restaurant concept next year. We had no time and no budget. Most pop-ups are in abandoned or unoccupied space, so we stripped the space back and neutralized it, painting the ceilings and floors black, the walls white. Then we commissioned graffiti artist Vince Dumoulin to treat the surfaces with disregard for boundaries, both physical and mental. The furniture was replaced with folding chairs, picnic tables and trouble lights hung randomly. The feeling is that of a ‘temporary art happening’, something akin to Andy Warhol’s Factory. It took six days to re-open, but the concept is liquid, so changes will continue throughout its run. I also wanted the name to confirm the message of impermanence, and was inspired by the idea of a countdown, hence the name.

You also designed the interiors of Koko Restaurant + Bar at OPUS Montreal, where a life-size Moooi horse greets patrons at the door. What inspired you?
The inspiration for Koko really started with the original art nouveau building. That in combination with an OPUS attitude and the extraordinary city of Montreal created permission for our design. I had a long out-of-print book of art nouveau illustrator Aubrey Beardsley’s prints; these exotic, dark and sexy works seemed to embody the mood we were looking to evoke. There are two primary spaces, one vast, vertical and airy (day); the second smaller and horizontal (night). With this foundation, the design and black and white palette took shape quite organically. It is a space that I hope arouses a sense of fantasy and possibility.

What were some of the challenges of introducing OPUS Hotel’s design to Montreal after the property was purchased in 2007?
The original property as purchased was quite sober and paired down. The OPUS brand is more about luxury and richness, with a nod to joy. In terms of room offerings, our first task was to bring the signature room colours into play; we also added new artwork that better suited the OPUS perspective.   This will continue as new furniture and lighting are addressed in the future. With the opening of Koko, the hotel has become a destination and that personality is becoming its visage.

What do you think about the next generation of boutique hotels, the so-called “lifestyle hotels” like Andaz, Indigo and Aloft?
I feel that in a saturated market, it’s a way to set your brand apart. Boutique is a term that in many ways has lost real meaning, with chains identifying themselves as boutique based on the use of ‘modern’ furniture and punchy colour schemes. ‘Lifestyle’ is an attempt to enhance the property’s perception and navigate the boutique category. In hospitality there is a term ‘room product’, which I do not like. For me there has to be meaning and that meaning is explained through guest experience. In any category the guest should feel special, and cared for. The best of the style hotels provide much more than interesting interiors; they embrace you.     

What are some of your favourite hotels and why?
Mondrian, South Beach. It’s all about the pool.
Haymarket, London. Like staying with an eccentric friend.
Hotel Palazzina Grassi, Venice. Magic.
Faena Hotel, Buenos Aires. Masculine meets feminine, and is One.
La Reserve, Paris. Like the city, it’s calm.
The Mercer, New York. The Mercer Kitchen (at street level) is my favourite room in the city.

Tell us about the restaurant that will replace One Hundred Days in the new year. What else is in store for the two properties?
Actually, we are just about to start design development for the new restaurant, so my lips are sealed. With respect to other changes for the two properties, there are always new projects on the horizon. OPUS ownership is dedicated to providing the best possible offerings to guests, so change really is a constant.

Visit Robert Bailey’s website and blog.

The good news is the gaping pit that’s been clogging Yaletown’s main artery and affecting business since 2006 has been filled, and Davie Street is now reopen. Recently, government officials announced that Canada Line will be open by Labour Day, three months ahead of schedule. Soon passengers will be whisked from Yaletown to the airport in 22 minutes and downtown in just three minutes. Before the thunder of bulldozers fades away, a little reflection is in order.

I’ll never forget that day in 2005 when a group of super-friendly people from a company called Ravco came to visit me at Opus Hotel and told me about plans for a high-speed rail project linking the airport to Richmond and Vancouver. Yaletown would have its own underground station, directly across the street from the hotel, and it would take three years to build. I was crestfallen. Since opening in 2002, Opus had ranked as one of the top hotels in the city in occupancy and guest satisfaction. Soon our clean, safe, highly-desirable heritage neighourhood would be overrun by bulldozers, dump trucks and butt-crack-baring construction workers. As the hotel’s general manager I did what any great leader would do: I locked myself in my office and had a good cry. Then I went online to look for a new job.

At Opus we were deeply concerned about the impacts of construction on our guests. Hotels, which run on the promise of comfort and rest, typically remain quiet about construction, hoping guests won’t notice the jack-hammering in the lobby. One of our employees suggested we try something radical: we tell guests the truth. The idea was immediately dismissed as preposterous. But it fit in with our organizational values of integrity and respect, and when no one came up with a better solution, we decided to give it a whirl. From that point forward callers were informed about construction activity at time of reservation. Rooms closest to construction were sold at a discount. A construction notice was posted on our website and in our confirmation letters, and a note was placed in rooms to explain the project.

It was a nail-biting risk. We were providing our guests a reason to stay elsewhere and our competitors a weapon to use against us. Many of our rooms didn’t face the construction site and activity was sporadic—why alarm all guests when only a few would be disturbed? Transparency threatened to only exacerbate the problem.

Yet to ignore construction can be far more damaging to a hotel. While a guest at a hotel in Atlanta, I endured drilling next door for three days before I complained. I was transferred to the duty manager’s line, and I left a message. I didn’t hear back. The next day a gift basket was delivered to my room, complete with a jar of Georgian peach salsa. There was no note or business card, so I wasn’t sure who it came from. Meanwhile, the drilling turned to jack-hammering. I left another message for the duty manager, requesting to change rooms. Again, no call back. That night, another gift arrived, a slab of chocolate that vaguely resembled the hotel’s logo. It had melted—much like my resolve to fight. I checked out the next day and, as much as I enjoyed the peach salsa, I won’t be staying there again.

Another misguided tactic is to make light of construction. Years ago, when I worked at the Westin Harbour Castle in Toronto, to make light of lobby renovations management decided to dress up two front desk employees each shift as construction workers. One day, upon reporting for duty I was handed a hardhat and an orange vest. “I don’t think so,” I said, handing them back—the hotel’s polyester uniform was humiliating enough. I was overruled. To my surprise, I found myself enjoying the construction worker role-play thing—until an irate guest stormed up to me and began ranting about not getting a harbour view. Partway through, he stopped, blinked, and said, “What the hell are you wearing?” The hats and vests were discontinued shortly thereafter.

As part of its efforts to soften the impact of construction, Canada Line formed a business liaison communications committee comprising of representatives from local businesses and various stakeholders. I sat on this committee for two years, and at the monthly meetings I was often either trembling with rage or nodding off in boredom. We small businesses felt powerless at times, a motley crew of Dr. Dooms and Debbie Downers pitted against a slick group of big-business executives, government and spin doctors. Sometimes I wondered if Canada Line officials fantasized about working in a totalitarian regime, where residents find out about an infrastructure project when a wrecking ball crashes through their home.

Despite assurances otherwise, construction cut off direct access to the hotel’s underground parkade, obliging our valets to drive several blocks to reach the side entrance to our own building. To ease the pressure we were granted access to an area in front of the hotel to stage cars. We parked luxury vehicles there, hoping to distract from the logo-plastered hording, the dirt and the portable toilets. Canada Line officials promised to support beleaguered businesses but patronized Opus only occasionally. One of the only contractors who did stay complained about construction noise and insisted on being moved to a quieter room.

Opus lost its share of business due to construction, and we had to work hard to appease some of our guests. Yet by being transparent we built a relationship of trust with our clientele, and our guest satisfaction ratings remained high throughout. Damage is inevitable in a project of this magnitude, and Yaletown has suffered more than its share, albeit less visibly so compared to the devastation along Cambie Street. Overall I think Canada Line and its stakeholders did an admirable job of working with Yaletown businesses. Even when delivering bad news they were so courteous it was impossible to stay angry—a tactic I suspect they appropriated from the hotel industry. The construction workers were respectful too, and I didn’t see a butt crack the entire time, which admittedly was a bit disappointing.

Despite the obvious challenges, Opus has been a supporter of Canada Line from the beginning. I would have even been more enthusiastic had the station been built elsewhere—like next to one of our competitor hotels. But few areas of downtown Vancouver have been completely spared the headaches of construction in the lead-up to the 2010 Olympics. On a trip to the waterfront two years ago, I was shocked by the loud, unrelenting “Ping!” resonating from the convention centre expansion site. I asked an employee of a nearby hotel how he could stand the noise. “Noise? What noise?” he said, his upper cheek twitching with each ping.

In December 2007, at the height of construction, I left my position as general manager of Opus and passed my hardhat to my successor, Nicholas Gandossi. Today, as we celebrate the reinstatement of Davie Street, we’re filled with gratitude to our guests for being so understanding and cool. We look forward to welcoming the new clientele that this efficient, environmentally-friendly transit system will carry to our doorstep, and we hope that Canada Line will fulfill its promise to leave Yaletown even better than when construction began.

See the modified version of this post published in The Vancouver Sun.

When I first heard that the hotel’s interior design team, led by the brilliant Robert Bailey (formerly of Architectura, now Stantec), was planning five guestroom décor schemes and 16 layouts, I thought they were crazy. With only 96 rooms, where was the economy of scale? They also planned to paint rooms red, blue, green and yellow. Colours? What about the official colour of every hotel room ever built: beige? They also casually mentioned that some rooms would have windows between the bathroom and bedroom – but no blinds, just a translucent sheer. I managed to win that battle by reminding them that some people travel with their grandmother. But the other design elements remained.

The hotel’s unique design features have made it fun to give tours. What I didn’t anticipate were the clever marketing opportunities the décor schemes presented. For inspiration, the design team created five fictional characters to represent the hotel’s typical guests, and then built rooms around them. Colours, fabrics and furnishings were selected to evoke the diverse lifestyles these personalities represented.

Think of these characters as a friend you’re coming to stay with. If you choose Susan, you’ll get a “stylish and sophisticated” blue room with curvy lamps and sexy fabrics. Susan’s a fashionista from Toronto who’s into the “see and be seen” scene. You’ll also find a selection of CDs and books to match her refined tastes (think opera, Dido and high fashion). After all, what do you do when you stay at a friend’s? You check out her CD collection and snoop through her bookshelf. Maybe you raid the fridge. But be forewarned, it’ll cost you at Opus. Just don’t steal anything like, say, towels or bathrobes or she might not invite you back.

If you’re feeling more uninhibited you’ll probably want to hang out with Billy. He’s a musician-filmmaker from London and his “artful & eclectic” room features lime green walls, whimsical art and faux rabbit-fur ottomans. Billy’s CD collection reflects his love of classic rock (think Kravitz and U2), whereas his books reflect his spiritual side (Ommm). Billy’s a party boy, so be prepared for a long night. Just don’t disturb Bob & Carol; they go to bed early. Bob’s a high tech exec and Carol’s journalist and they’re from San Francisco. Their “tony & traditional” yellow room leans toward comfort and conservative design. They’re not boring, they’re simply more mature and cultured. Oh, and Bob gets a lot of headaches. The CDs and books in this room reflect their fondness for jazz, classical music and higher learning.

Just down the hall you’ll find Mike, a doctor from New York who represents the convention traveler who breaks away from the crowd. His “modern and minimalist” room features cranberry-red walls, contemporary furnishings and edgy photography. Mike likes to dance to the divas and his leisure reading is decidedly non-medical, so be prepared for a blessedly superficial stay. But don’t get the wrong idea, ladies – sometimes Mike travels with his “friend” Steve. Upstairs in the penthouse suite you’ll find Dede, a method actress from Los Angeles and our resident drama queen. Her “daring & dramatic” suite features taupe walls, faux-fur fabrics and provocative art. Her taste in music is diverse but leans toward hip hop. She’s not much of a reader, but occasionally flips through books if there are lots of pictures. If you choose to hang out with Dede, be prepared to binge and splurge.

When Opus opened in 2002 we sent out a casting call for these characters and featured them in a photo shoot (see Billy above) and at our opening party. We’ve since tried to retire them, but people won’t let us. The concept of choosing a room to match your personality (or mood) captures the imagination. The media has written loads of stories about Mike and his friends. Currently, the characters are moonlighting as concierges in our Lifestyle Concierge program: you choose the personality that best suits your lifestyle and they tell you their favourite places to shop, dine and play in Vancouver.

What does the future hold for the Opus personalities? After almost five years, a few nips and tucks are in order. As we introduce new colours, fabrics and furnishings in our guestrooms we’ll update their profiles. Maybe Billy’s evolved into a Bono-like character who uses his fame for charitable causes. Maybe Susan’s career in fashion has taken off and she’s now alarmingly similar to Anna Wintour. As for Bob & Carol, rumour has it that Carol filed for divorce after catching Bob in Mike’s room. And Dede? Undoubtedly she shaved her head, did a stint in rehab and is building an orphanage in Malawi. We’re also planning to bring the characters out of the bedroom and into Opus Bar, where we’ll be featuring a martini inspired by each personality.

The possibilities are endless. One thing I know for sure, the Opus personalities have checked in for the long term, and they’re looking forward to welcoming lots more guests. I’d love to hear which personality you identify with most. And check out CBC’s recent story on the Opus personalities.