I think a stay at Maison Moschino would cure whatever ails ya. My first choice would be the red velvet dress but I wouldn't really complain about the bed of roses. I'm going to close my eyes now and imagine I'm in Milan with the above breakfast (and grande flask of coffee) nestled next to me, and I'm going to pretend that the Little Red Riding Hood room is far, far away. I wonder how you say, "Concierge, there's a diabolical floral chintz attack dog in my bed that's neither cheap nor chic." in Italian, while sounding both duly concerned and ironical.