When we walked through the indisputably sharply appointed Cosmopolitan, we thought, \"Look at this pretentious nightmare of douche-bag hipster gloriousness! We must stay here!\" And so this year, we did.\n\nThe problem was: It IS a pretentious nightmare of douchebag hipsters. Douchebag trust-fund hipsters, to be precise. What we had enjoyed briefly, thinking for some reason that everyone was in on the irony, was quickly revealed to be entirely literal. The simplest way to describe it: Bellagio is old money. Cosmo is new money. \n\nThe Marquee Day Club is modeled after South Beach clubs, with beds and bottle service and fake boobs perched on anorexic ribs and tanning bed tans and life-of-leisure abs. The \"attitude\" is as thick as the Pour Homme. Basically, douchebag mating grounds. \n\nOur wrap-around terrace suite was absolutely lovely (1887) with a commanding view of the Strip and the Bellagio fountains. Yet little things were...off. The towels were rough. The washcloths worn. There was no trashcan in the kitchen, nor a coffee maker. The bedroom phone cord had been ripped out. The robes were cuddly soft, though. \n\nMy husband was genuinely freaked out by the uber-attitude, to the point where I think he was actually spoiling for a fight (you can take the boy outta da Bronx....). I reminded him that we were in THEIR world, that it was WE who had to adapt or die, that they were all behaving in exactly the appropriate manner for who they are. Please, thank you, excuse me...all as foreign to them as thrift stores and coupons.\n\nNext year? Back to Bellagio, where pretention is the frosting on a classy, moist cake, not the acai berry in the small-batch vodka of the month cocktail.
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