Faded Glory
The location of this property is amazing; which is why I would recommend it to anyone. But that recommendation comes with a few caveats.
 It is unfortunate this property is content with living in its own shadow. Everywhere you look you can see hints of what used to be, the lush life responsible for putting this place on the social map, but whatever efforts were made to bring it up to date—make it relevant and current and return it to its previous glory—are certainly lost in the details. 
The rooms themselves are tired even with an obvious makeover (not sure how long ago that happened). Towels are rough and threadbare, the beds borderline lumpy; and don't expect to unpack you bags and make yourself at home because drawer space is at a premium, and mind you I stayed in one of their larger rooms. Taking the elevator to the 19th floor I expected to encounter a stunning room when the doors opened at The Top of the Mark, but for that I would have needed a time machine. Gone is the remarkable center bar that once anchored the room; now replaced with a tiny corner version not even visible from the entrance. There is not a single remarkable detail in this space. Not the furniture, not the fixtures. It's like someone in command said, "who cares if the room looks like we borrowed it from a 2 star motel, people don't come here for the room; they come for the view." But nothing could be further from the truth. As is, it's just a space with a bunch of windows high up enough to see the city; just another room with a view. A space that happens to have a list of over 100 martinis designed apparently to distract you from thoughts of a Holiday Inn or a Motel 6.
Unless you have money to burn I would steer clear of the club level services. Located on the lobby level it lacks prestige...and I sure grew tired of eating cold cuts and blue cheese for breakfast.
The porte cochere with its gorgeous herringbone-patterned brick drive is always energetic, with bell hops blowing old school whistles to hail taxis for guests and people taking pictures of the hotel's grand facade. But once inside the feeling "you have arrived," fades quickly into the historic woodwork. A mish mash of furniture fails to render the vast space inviting. In fact, even when this lounge area is void of people it comes across as chaotic. And perhaps the most beautiful room on the ground level (the foyer of a once popular ballroom that featured live performances; sorry...the name escapes me) is hidden behind drawn curtains like some old relative sure to embarrass everyone if they were allowed out in public. But do take a peek at the old cousin...her skylight ceiling evokes European conservatories or train stations. Stunning!
The service was hit or miss. I must say everyone who manned the front desk of the Club Lounge were top notch; gracious and attentive. I cannot, however, say the same for the young woman who checked me in; who thought it best to basically tell me to shut up and let her spill her spiel and if she missed anything along the way then I could ask her questions. Why…I oughta…!
And the concierge (mind you, I only had the pleasure of one. He seemed to be a permanent fixture at the concierge desk) lacked knowledge and initiative; two things any concierge worth a damn should carry around in spades.
Overall, the Mark Hopkins slightly misses the mark (pun intended), which is unfortunate; because with a little elbow grease and TLC this place could truly be special and could live up to everything they claim to offer.