One of the most highly anticipated pieces of news among those who traffic in such Vegas minutiae is what MGM Mirage will christen the 4,000-room centerpiece of their $7.4 billion CityCenter complex. More than two years into its construction, the place is still referred to unofficially by many as the CityCenter Hotel.
Trouble is, no matter what they end up calling the place, it’s bound to be disappointing. I discovered this the other day when, while chatting with CityCenter Chief of Design and Construction Bobby Baldwin, I asked about the name. They still don’t have one yet, he said, but they almost did. Unfortunately, they couldn’t get the trademark for the one they came up with—someone else held it—so they’re still hunting.
The failed name? Aria.
Does it do anything for you? Didn’t think so. And not because it’s a bad name. It’s fine. Pretty, even. It just doesn’t mean anything. It’s arbitrary. It’s forgettable. You know, like Echelon. Or Crown Las Vegas. Or MEGACENTER, the all-caps moniker bestowed on the entire 19-million-square-foot Venetian-Palazzo-Sands Expo complex. Or the Epicentre, which was the working title for Harrah’s Entertainment’s center-Strip redevelopment plan that remains unannounced and, quite probably, unplanned.
And so, such is the fate of Vegas resorts in this post-theme era. What difference does a name make when it doesn’t actually offer any insight into what the place itself is all about? Think about these words: Mirage. Treasure Island. Bellagio. Luxor.
Excalibur. Paris. New York-New York. Monte Carlo. Caesars Palace. Rio. Mandalay Bay. Each conjures up a fairly specific image; each is a reasonable advertisement for what lies within.
The Palazzo, then, fits and works perfectly as an addition and/or sister property to the Venetian. And, while I don’t quite understand the legal basis of the Elad Group for their claim to the Plaza name for their project across from Wynn Las Vegas seeing how the Plaza is already in use on a Downtown hotel-casino, I get that there’s a heritage possessed in that name earned from the legendary New York namesake. If the people who own the Plaza on Central Park South get to build something called the Plaza on the Strip in Vegas, that name will, in fact, bring with it pre-earned cachet.
Beyond that, here’s the problem in this bland, themeless world: Never will there be any possibility that anyone will mistake the Circus Circus for, say, the Hard Rock. But Echelon versus THEHotel versus Aria? Would it matter if we switched around these names for the heck of it?
One of the great naming processes of the modern Vegas era came when Steve Wynn ditched the intended title for what became his eponymous resort, Le Reve, about a year into construction. The decision came at the urging of such brains as pollster Frank Luntz and moviemaker Steven Spielberg and after he famously once derided Donald Trump for always naming buildings for himself. (Le Reve went on to be the name of his Cirque-like show instead.)
The interesting thing about both Le Reve and Wynn Las Vegas is that both would have been just fine because they have little stories behind them, they have meaning. Le Reve is the name of a beloved Picasso that renowned art collector Wynn owns (and famously damaged in 2006), so at least there was some emotional connection there. And “Wynn” is, well, just about the most perfect name for a casino-resort and a reflection on a man who has built a legacy that is marketable in its own right.
Encore, the Wynn Las Vegas add-on tower, might have been a generic aspirational-sounding name, except that in this context it reflects a certain arrogance and attitude. It follows the most expensive casino-resort ever built, so Wynn is telling the world, “You may not believe this, but this one’s going to be even better than my last masterpiece!” The name has a message.
With “Aria” or some other similarly focus-group-tested name, MGM Mirage is clearly striving for something lyrical, something to denote class and distinction. But the MGM Mirage would be smart to call the new joint simply CityCenter Hotel-Casino, now that they’ve built up some brand equity in that name, and at least the term has come to define the high-density collection of hotels and condos intended to revolutionize the Strip. Then the name would mean something.
Whatever they do end up calling it, of course, the substance of the property will determine whether we love it or not, whether we want to visit or don’t. George Maloof certainly proved that with his plain-sounding, unthemed Palms. But that took brilliant marketing and a lot of effort; Bally’s, by contrast, sits there as a baffling dullsville waiting for its extreme makeover while bearing a name that says and means nothing.
In a recent interview with Steve Wynn, I predicted to him that sooner or later, the themed resort will have to return because all these high-end places will need some means of distinguishing themselves from one another.
“Well, good point,” Wynn said. “But it’s not going to be as simple as grabbing New York or Venice. No, no, no. No, no, no. It’s going to be tougher than that.” Actually, yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes. It’s going to be as simple as that. Because nobody is going to want to merely blend in.
But in the meantime, here are a few ideas offered up by readers of my blog: “The Lyric.” “The Arias” in honor of departing Zumanity star Joey Arias. Or my personal favorite: “Kirk’s Gamblin’ Hall & Casino.” Think anyone’s trademarked that one?
Read Steve Friess’ daily blog at TheStripPodcast.blogspot.com and catch his weekly celeb-interview podcast at TheStripPodcast.com. He can be reached at [email protected].