Though it remained open throughout the 20th century, the Mimslyn’s shine faded over the years. Thankfully, the hotel-loving Asam family (they own the Bavarian Inn in West Virginia) purchased the property in 2005 and spent a few years—and several million dollars—bringing her to lustrous, 21st-century life. The 45 rooms and suites were completely refurbished, as was the lobby and, of course, the fine dining restaurant, now named Circa ’31. What was once a mere basement visited only by the staff has been transformed into a blissful day spa/fitness center and a casual-chic lounge, the Speakeasy. As I discovered on a recent weekend in early spring, the Mimslyn Inn is back—and how.
After a surprisingly short drive from Charlottesville that made me wonder why I hadn’t been there before, I checked in to the Mimslyn (with my husband and daughter) on a late Friday afternoon. I must admit that I wasn’t expecting such (affordable) luxury in Luray. Since the hotel had just re-opened and it was still the off-season, we had the sense of trespassing on another era, of sneaking into a Rockefeller mansion while the owners were away, and being treated like Rockefellers ourselves.
It was difficult to pull myself away from our spacious, spanking-new third-floor suite—high ceilings, big windows, king-size four-poster bed, two flat-screen TVs, virtual fireplace, enormous Jacuzzi tub—but I was eager to explore. Just as the sky darkened outside, I swirled down the spiral staircase, passed the laughter and glass clinking of a private party in the hotel’s magnificent Blue Ridge Room and slipped into the swank Speakeasy Bar and Restaurant for a before-dinner drink. A sense of humor and whimsy infuses this jazzy little joint, which was inspired by the Prohibition era and the Mimslyn’s own early history. The décor features intimate, cream-colored leather booths, Tiffany-style lamps, bistro tables, a handcrafted wood bar, and huge, black and white photographs of silent movie stars on the walls. I plopped down on a corner couch next to Greta Garbo and ordered a concoction called “Joe’s Password”—Southern Comfort, ginger ale and cherry juice—which was served, like many of the Speakeasy’s signature drinks, in a coffee mug, just in case of a raid. I gazed into Valentino’s eyes and suddenly had an appetite.
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