Like its Sanskrit namesake (शील) suggests, Shila means ‘character’.

Drawing from the building’s alluring details – the original terrazzo floors, high ceilings, and wild garden oozing old Athenian charm – a place beyond a hotel is envisioned; the home and atelier of an enigmatic muse, Shila.

“…all of us would gather in Shila’s dimly lit salon or rooftop terrace seeking bonds of fraternity and intimacy. Together we fashioned histories. We spun wild tales. We explored fantasies. We told lies and our deepest truths. We laughed and cried and fought bitterly and then drank to each other’s health and made love on fine cotton sheets. We were alive. But we were passing through. Shila. Shila was immortal. She would listen to our tales with that hand on her hip and that half smile on her face and say, “oh that reminds me of the time….” and into her history we would fall.How one so light of foot could hold such presence, I will never know. To this day I have no idea how old she was. Shila was timeless. Beautiful and pure, yet ancient and accomplished. Barefoot, with brown loose hair, she would dance from room to room as if holding court. Greeting each as an old friend, even if it was our first acquaintance. She knew how we took our whiskey, could serve our favorite mid-winter meal, and was masterful at guiding conversation between guests who barely spoke a common tongue. “I run an open house,” she would say. “For my dearest friends.”