Visiting Trump Tower is a strange experience - especially now

Breakfast at Tiffany's sounds so delightful but breakfast at Tiffany's next door neighbour - Trump Tower - isn't quite to enchanting.

By Caroline O'Doherty in New York

Breakfast at Tiffany's sounds so delightful but breakfast at Tiffany's next door neighbour isn't quite to enchanting.

Next door is Trump Tower and breakfast at the self-serve Trump Grill is an uninspiring affair.

The cheery server behind the counter tries to convince that the big man himself does come down from time to time and orders up a plate just like anyone else.

But if the eggs are always this cold and the hash browns this greasy, The Apprentice star probably gets to practice his famous "You're fired" line with some regularity.

The server insists he's not really that tough a customer. "He's not that bad. He's a nice guy. Really."

Maybe so, but he's not nice to the environment. All the plates, cutlery and cereal pots are plastic, none of them bearing a recycle symbol. To be fair, the coffee cups can be recycled but unfortunately the contents taste like they already have been.

Trump Reserve is the name of the blend - reserved for people who'll try the Starbucks upstairs the next time.

Trump Tower is a strange place at the best of times. Built in the early 1980s when even the Big Apple needed a bit of shine-up, it was presented as 58 storeys of luxury and glitz, where the wealthy would live, shop, do business or all three.

So much mirror and glass covers the interior that it's possible to see yourself with every glance and imagine that you and you alone exist in this elevated environment - proof, if needed, that Donald did have input into the design.

But so much gold, bronze, brass, russet and red has been used in the decor that the overall effect is of feeling like being inside a giant tomato.

The lobby is like a shrine to Trumpian tremendousness, as Donald himself might put it. Daughter Ivanka's jewellery is on display and glass cases hold the Trump Kids clothing range sold for son Eric's charitable foundation.

Donald's own collection - from tie pins to his Success brand aftershave to his numerous books and Make America Great Again baseball caps are also arranged for all to admire.

Since he announced his candidacy for president, however, his marble tower has an eerie feel. There are empty shop units, their vacancy cleverly disguised behind dark glass, and the directories on each publicly accessible floor have had the names of the occupants removed.

Random opening and closing times for the atrium and fifth floor public garden - included as planning conditions when Trump wanted to build higher than regulations allowed - have upset city officials who say he can't just shut down at a whim or when his campaign is having a wobble.

More upsetting is the public garden itself which is a small, concrete and metal creation with a handful of potted trees to give a garden effect. The area is surrounded by high walls, the lowest topped by five flags - four star spangled banners and one Nike swoosh, the sports giant being one of the few surviving tenants.

Outside, the customary doorman is absent and five police officers and a dog patrol instead. A TV news crew is camped there too and a few supporters holding Blacks for Trump signs have gathered but no-one can or will say if the Donald himself is in the house, and his campaign headquarters - just visible a flight above the garden - looks to have only a handful of staff in situ.

Of course Donald isn't here really - he's currently residing on Cloud Nine after the latest FBI investigation revelations to hit Hillary Clinton.

Still, even if they don't catch him spooning cold eggs off a plastic plate, there's enough of a novelty to attract a steady stream of tourists.

At the Trump store downstairs (the upstairs one has been vacated), one family group are having a heated discussion over their young son's insistence on buying a $35 soft toy dog from Eric Trump's charity collection.

"Honestly, Chase, couldn't I just buy you one from Chinatown for five dollars?" the exasperated mom sighed.

Chase was having none of it. He clung to the eight inches of fake fur like Trump clings to his presidential dream.

Mom gave in, sighed some more and opened her purse. Chase grinned triumphantly. The kid belongs here.