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I like to escape to hotels.

I don't like the idea that one hotel could be better than another. In any city, I try to find a hotel that has the identity of that place - Claridge's in London, the Danieli or Cipriani in Venice. In New York, I stay at the Mercer Hotel; it is so much in the character of SoHo.

The great advantage of a hotel is that it is a refuge from home life.

In Britain I love spending time at the St. James's, the Jumeirah Carlton Tower on Cadogan Place, and the Mayfair Hotel. We've got some spectacular hotels tucked away in London, but because I live there, I don't get to spend as much time in them as I probably would like to.

When I was put up in posh hotels, I thought it was wonderful.

I always found the road exciting. I liked stinking hotels and freezing dressing rooms.

Truthfully, I despise hotels. I've had such better experiences staying at people's houses and guesthouses; it's so much more comfortable and homey.

I'm a hotel baby, absolutely: it's hard to think of a hotel I haven't stayed in.

The strange thing about hotel rooms is that they look familiar and seem familiar and have many of the accoutrements that seem domestic and familiar, but they are really weird, alien and anonymous places.

I rarely stay in hotels because I have friends all over the world.