5 days Ago By Delilah Khomo
From heady days and nights at the Hôtel du Couvent in Nice to pina coladas and getting caught in the rain at The Brando in French Polynesia. For this Guide, I very much embraced the word of the year - Charlie XCX’s much-maligned term Brat - well, really Bratler does have such a good ring to it..
. It certainly chimed with my thoughts on this year’s list of hotels featured, who all have such a strong sense of identity and just do what they do in the most unapologetically fabulous way. Meditating in a folly here by the soft early-morning light, overlooking the red-tiled roofs, you feel something close to nostalgia for the very moment you’re in.
It’s like you’ve checked in with God – in part due to the building’s layered ecclesiastical history. From 1604, the Poor Clares were in occupation; and from 1803 until the early 1980s, when it began to fall into ruin, the Order of the Visitation of Holy Mary. And all those centuries of pious contemplation have endowed this place with such a potent serenity, it embraces you as soon as you cross the threshold from the Old Town (though the warm lemon madeleines waiting at reception will also stop you in your tracks).
The Couvent’s mastermind was the maverick and brilliant hotelier Valéry Grégo – famed for Les Roches Rouges, and Le Pigalle in Paris – and this utopian-minded scene-maker deserves an award for his energy and commitment alone. Not to mention the foresight that led him to embark on a decade-long restoration that somehow just catches the mood of now. And it’s all very enlightening: especially if you book in with onsite herbalist Gregory Unrein, who might prescribe lion’s mane mushroom capsules or lavender tea to soothe your frazzled mind; or find equal peace in the restored subterranean Roman-style baths, where you can while away the morning with a thermal circuit, dipping in and out of the tepidarium and cold plunge before being anointed with herbal oils in the candlelit spa rooms.
But inner beauty is only one of the hotel’s gifts. It’s also an exceptional aesthetic experience, from the exteriors lime-washed in soft ochre-yellow to the bedrooms, resplendent in an understated medley of Twombly-esque colours. (With high ceilings and big windows, their beds are like principalities adorned in creamy hessian linens.
) Calm and chic, it’s all so sensuous – and tasteful. And wait until you try breakfast from the onsite bakery, where you could happily blow your day’s carb allotment on the sugared brioche. Everything’s so warm and fragrant here, not least the omelette scented with orange blossom water that’s a signature of the main colonnaded dining room.
There’s an abundance of flora, too. In the huge stone urns filled with sunflowers and foxgloves artfully arranged by Majid Mohammad of Muse in Montmartre. Or in the terraced gardens landscaped by Tom Stuart-Smith, where meadow grass and wildflowers creep up cobbled steps, giving way to the pomegranate and fig trees that hide the infinity pool.
And here, you’re constantly hit by the heady scent of herbs, particularly the sage which later finds its way into the best aperitivo snacks, battered and served alongside a chilled glass of natural rosé made from Cinsault, Tibouren and Mourvedre grapes. Move on to the Pissaladière tart, salad nicoise or whatever other organic dish features on La Guinguette restaurant’s small but perfectly formed menu (sourced both from the gardens and the hotel’s own farm) and you can’t help but cry: ‘Mon Dieu!’ Doubles from £330 If you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain – although we're talking tropical flash-showers that turn to blazing blue skies in minutes – then this is exactly the kind of place you should escape to. Tetiaroa is one of the most extraordinary lagoon settings in the world.
Once the late Marlon Brando's very own atoll, a paradise he found while filming Mutiny on the Bounty, it has now been reimagined as a eco-desert-island fantasy. And could you get any nearer to heaven? As far as the eye can see, there's the soothing sight of a Tiffany-blue sea; and if you don’t want to hang out on the oceanside daybeds, you can always splash about in the private plunge at your villa until you find it in yourself to venture out to the thatched Bob's Bar for lobster rolls and a imaginative take on a Bounty bar: a perfect scoop of coconut ice-cream drowned in hot chocolate sauce and served in a shell. Yes, it may seem implausible that there will come a time when you can’t eat more grilled seafood or drink more mai-tais (as this is the most glamorous incarnation of an all-inclusive, with the most divine teppanyaki restaurant, Nami, on hand as well).
But you must save yourself for the most romantic evening out: chef Jean Imbert’s gastronomic odyssey across Tahiti at Les Mutinés, where a statement chandelier in the form of HMS Bounty sparkles overhead. There are also adventures to be had in an Edenic spa that offers all kinds of full-body rituals: a spellbinding symphony of hot stones, warmed poultices and plenty of tiare oil. And don’t miss the snorkelling and the in-season diving with humpback whales, the bird-watching tours and boat trips to swim in the ‘Queen's Bath’, a natural pool where Tahitian royalty used to bathe.
But just wait until the end of the day, when the sun turns rose-pink before slithering into the glassy waters. Then savour the silence. It’s a testament to his understanding of l’art de vivre that Robin Hutson totally anticipated the zeitgeist when he started The Pig group nearly 15 years ago.
For his is an invigorating way of seeing the English country hotel, focusing on hospitality that is generous, kind and – most importantly – fun. And did we mention the food, glorious food? Pickling, smoking and curing apart, he has showed deep commitment to the kitchen gardens at all his properties; and now to the thriving wine scene in Sussex, where he has planted 4,000 vines including chardonnay, pinot noir and pinot meunier in an almost two-acre field once used for grazing alpacas. But then, this master of the experience – and perfect hotelier – has seen it all.
His first job was commis-waiting at Claridge’s. Later, he did stints at the Berkeley and Hôtel de Crillon, and went on to manage Chewton Glen for eight years (before co-launching Hotel du Vin and helping Nick Jones open Babington House). And above all, what he learned was how to create a sense of authenticity.
That’s the hallmark of his group, and of the newly-opened Barnsley House: a tangible sense of soul, encouraging the highly appealing illusion that you’re a favoured friend down for the weekend. Hutson may say of this, his tenth Pig establishment: ‘It’s not my first time at the rodeo.’ Still, it may well be the loveliest of all his establishments.
And talk about a glamorous potager garden: it’s everything you’d expect at the former home of the celebrated horticulturist Rosemary Verey. Living off the land comes easily here, curled into the rolling Cotswolds. A faint scent of beeswax mingles with those of fresh-cut flowers and roaring fires.
And thanks to Hutson’s wife, Judy, the interiors are replete with floral charm; not least in the divine bedrooms, decorated in a harmonious mix of pinks and purples. But there’s more to this place than mere prettiness. It actually makes you feel good; especially the Potting Shed spa, where you can indulge in a hot-stone massage and afterwards pad back to the hotel in your dressing gown for a slice of cake in one of the drawing rooms.
The food is as comforting as it is fresh (be it grilled pumpkin with hazelnuts, crisp roast-chicken or platters of local cheeses) and the breakfasts feature the best imaginable scrambled eggs and bacon. Barnsley House is the final Pig to be launched by the Hutsons: they're retiring this month. And nobody wants their journey to end.
For the spirit of individuality that they have manifested in their establishments – not to mention the genuine and joyous camaraderie in their guests – have distinguished them as the most enchanting of proprietors, with a flair for doing things their own way. They came. They saw.
They conquered. Doubles from £265 (thepighotel.com).
The diamond sparkle bouncing off the water here is almost blinding. At this aqua-centric establishment– below the hilltop town of Taormina, smouldering on the secluded Mazzarò Bay – everything revolves around the shingle beach, where the quality of the sea is beyond: clear as glass and just the right amount of swell. Being here makes you feel liberated, content to be fully in the present, with life reduced to delightful simplicities and the hardships of winter far, far away.
As for the hotel’s new Lido Villeggiatura beach club, it’s the essence of a Sicilian summer; whether you’re watching a sunset screening of or lying post-breakfast in your Missoni bikini, scanning La Repubblica with an almond granita to hand. The spell of this place is not overly saccharine or nostalgic, though there’s still plenty of Mambo-Italiano-Monica-Vitti bombshell-beauty to it. It’s glamorous but not bling, cool but not intimidating; and from the moment you come upon its generously spread-out blue-and-white-striped sunbeds, you’ll want to stay forever, gazing at the swimmers who jump off the rocks in the bay.
Especially as you savour the club’s signature cocktail, a riff on a Pina Colada with the addition of some delicious pistachio liqueur. Here, it’s all about long alfresco lunches, and the biggest decision of the day is choosing between the platters of red prawn crudo and bronze-drawn spaghetti with Ganzirri clams. When the sun’s glare gets too much and you need a break, there’s a host of hangouts in the hotel to which you can retreat, where you can savour the still-strokeable period furniture and aged tiled floors, as well as the wide range of books and squashy-places for reading them in peace.
The interiors are masterworks of soothing, contemporary design and fabulous linens – not to mention the mattresses of dreams – and the bathrooms are stocked with an abundance of Acqua di Parma products, which smell just as powerful as the garden setting of your evening cocktail, where you can breathe in the evocative aroma of orange blossom and jasmine and watch the surf roll out. Then there's Brizza, the more ‘gastronomic’ of the restaurants, down by the water: taking in the Ionian panorama, and with the Franciacorta on ice when you arrive, it serves fine, sunny wines from the slopes of Etna while chef Agostino D’Angelo does miraculous things with sardines and tuna. Doubles from £616, including breakfast (belmond.
com). Behold a proper temple of design: (expensively) understated yet (impossibly) elevated. And as one of the late Lord Rogers of Riverside’s last projects, it has an illustrious architectural pedigree.
Interiors-wise, every two floors had their own dedicated decorators – an eminent roll-call spanning Alexandra Champalimaud and André Fu, Patricia Urquiola and Pierre-Yves Rochon – and though all the suites have their own idiosyncrasies and subtle signatures, the whole and mood is one of grand minimalism. What scale, too, with floor-to-ceiling windows framing fantastic park views best enjoyed from a generously over-sized bed covered in Frette Egyptian cotton: the finest place to enjoy breakfast made more magnificent by the delivery of pain suisse by Cédric Grolet, who is based at The Emory’s next-door sister , The Berkeley. A nice touch; as are the vast stone baths, which could be Marina Abramović installations at Frieze, except with far softer lighting.
Then there are the butlers on-hand to telepathically anticipate your desires and guide you down to the subterranean spa and its fabulous pool, a destination in its own right and the most in-demand private gym-cum-wellness club in London. Yes, the Surrenne is a kicking, standout facility spread over four storeys, a Zen-zone for whose creation they had to dig deep below the tube lines. It’s a potent combination of thoughtful, high-tech medical care – there are all kinds of doctors and diagnostic tests available – and a roll-call of top therapists and holistic offerings.
They’re big on crystals, too: not just in the cafe, which displays an impressive collection of amethysts and citrines, but on the treatment tables. Have a hammam of dreams on a white onyx one, or a Korean scalp ritual that engenders both deep relaxation and great clarity of thought. Is it the heat, or the onyx, or the practitioner’s energetic touch? In fact, all the latter have that extra something, and such artistic flair; especially Emanuela, who performs a memorable Ashiatsu massage as she deftly treads over your back.
Eventually, though, you’ll find yourself at the abc kitchens, a branch of Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s renowned New York eatery that is now the hotel’s chief restaurant. Showstoppers here include spring pea guacamole, D crab toasts, all kinds of seafood tartares and truffle pizza, as well as a memorable trifle dessert that riffs on rhubarb-and-lychees. As for the hotel’s crowning glory, take the lift up and above the skyline to Bar 33, a chic and discreet bolthole where the sensory seduction remains unsurpassed.
That’s thanks in part to its Bliss martinis – which faintly taste of violets – and largely to the various star mixologists who do residencies through the year. (Tato Giovanni has perfected the most poetic martini made with rainwater.) Not to mention Rémi Tessier’s slick decor: a symphony of marble, with flashes of copper and a smattering of old-fashioned 1960s swivel chair for really taking in that glittering 360-degree panorama.
Another revelation is the adjoining cigar bar, where you’ll want to smoke a vintage Cohiba El Laguito, just like the regular power-players who come here for a break from business and to the revolving cigar collection. They sure do keep the glamour-quotient vertiginous at The Emory..
. Doubles from £1,440 (the-emory.co.
uk) It’s as if Daedalus, the wondrous craftsman of Greek mythology, had designed the stone-edged infinity pools that cascade down the mountainside of this island that has long been associated with water nymphs. Brand-new and blissfully remote, set in a sun-drenched, elemental landscape with sweeping prospects of the Aegean, this One&Only is sure to declutter the busiest of minds. Not least because you have complete privacy in the individual villas, where mid-century-modern meets Cycladic minimalism in luminous shades of stone and sand; and where you wake to unspoilt sea views and, shimmering in the sunlight – yes – your own infinity pool.
The bathtubs also deserve an award for their sense of scale, and the speed at which they fill up. As for the hotel-hub, which houses a chic boutique, a library, a speakeasy-style bar and a host of hangout spaces, sprawling, elegant structure whose Olympian proportions compliment the vast red rocks around you. In fact, praise must go to architect John Heah for making the whitewashed, polished cement and stonework look so epic and otherworldly.
As are the breakfasts here, with endless stations of fabulous native delights, among them the flakiest feta-and-spinach pies. Other highlights include the vast pool next to the Kaiki bar; long, languid lunches of fabulous grilled beef short-rib and lobster tacos at the Bond Beach Club; and an epic spa menu. The cumulative effect results of a Subtle Energies facials, marma massage, hydrotherapy in yet another amazing (indoor) pool and acupuncture and bodywork leave you feeling like a modern-day nymph.
But actually...
nothing beats rising from your sumptuous bed and diving straight in to your own thrilling infinity pool...
There’s no question, the cabin-suite on this train is a masterpiece. With its high-spec marble bathroom and gleaming wooden fixtures, exquisite lacquered marquetry and cloud-like double bed – covered in sheets that feel like iced silk – it’s richly evocative, turning the best of the old days into something marvellously new. But then, nowhere compares for atmosphere with the Orient Express, where everything just seems to take on a glittering sheen; and that’s largely down to the fabulous staff’s fastidious attention to the detail of standards meticulously maintained (just like the train’s midnight-blue exterior, which is lovingly polished to an impossibly high shine).
What you will encounter here is magic realism in locomotive form – and somewhere you shouldn’t hold back. The champagne’s free-flowing, the caviar’s on ice and all you need do is lounge around in your Charvet pyjamas as the train chugs through the Alps, with Gershwin or Cole Porter crooning through the speakers. No indulgence has been overlooked; so your immersive time-travel should include plenty of expertly-shaken Old Fashions and French 75s served in Lalique glassware (copies of which you should order and take home).
And the dinner masterminded by Jean Imbert – cue lobster, lots of turbot and even more caviar – is rich, spoiling and all you’d expect on such an illustrious mode of transport. Afterwards, while the train weaves through hushed towns and villages, what a scene awaits in the Bar Car. And here, against a backdrop of sapphire-blue, zebra-print velvet upholstery – with low lamplights casting a rosy glow – you can enjoy icy vodka martinis to a soundtrack of jazz classics played on the piano.
The following morning, your windows will frame an entirely new view to accompany a basket of Imbert’s viennoiserie (the pain au chocolat is a true thing of beauty). However, it would be wise to save room for the main event, as next comes a lavish brunch in your living room: scrambled eggs crowned with caviar, langoustine ravioli, glorious and, , more champagne. As for a souvenir of your voyage, the boxed-up piece of original train lacquer is wonderful enough; but the theatrical manner in which it is presented by the liveried staff will forever make you smile.
Doubles from £3,530 (belmond.com). The magic starts as soon as you roll out of King’s Cross.
Heading up to Gleneagles’ very own train station in the rolling Perthshire countryside – where the promise of owls and eagles awaits – you might as well be on the Hogwarts Express. And within minutes of arriving, you’ll understand why the illustrious hotel has become fondly known as the ‘Glorious Playground’. Celebrating its 100th anniversary this year, Gleneagles still very much remains the place for golf and grouse.
Except now, it has the added glamour of Sharan Pasricha and his wife Eiesha in charge; and they’ve breathed fresh energy into this Scottish landmark, with its destination spa and Barbara Sturm facials, its chic interiors and clubhouse vibe. But back to the children, who can partake in the ultimate treasure hunt here: an Adventure Guide leading them to destinations across the estate to chronicle their discoveries and amass a collection of special stamps which, once completed, can be redeemed for a prize. And for this, they’ll need to be fuelled by the hotel’s legendary breakfasts.
(You’ll get an idea of what they entail when you consider there are four different types of smoked salmon and nine kinds of freshly-mixed juices – not forgetting the Bloody Mary section – and that’s before you’ve even looked at the à la carte menu.) But an award should also go to the in-house Playground Planners, who turn childhood fantasies into reality, whether cosy bedroom teepees or designing a perfect schedule of outdoor activities that includes zip-wiring, archery and tree climbing. Equally enchanting for adults is dinner at the Strathearn: oysters, caviar and plenty of champagne popping are what a mother’s school-holiday dreams are made of.
Meanwhile, their children will rejoice in such gourmet delights as prawn cocktails and steak; not forgetting the theatrical finale of Crêpe Suzette. Doubles from £575 (gleneagles.com) Bumping and lurching along a rough, red-dirt track through a lunar landscape, vast and empty, you step out of one of the hotel’s 4x4s to be greeted by the sound of the wind whipping in your ears.
This far-flung hotel crowns a swathe of the south-eastern coast of the island of Folegandros, and is a stone's throw from the small village of Petousis, the first agricultural settlement on the island. And if you want the idiosyncratically Greek good life – the kind of simplicity, straightforwardness and elegance that only the Cyclades can conjure up – Gundari may be the place for you. Here, each of the 27 suites’ interiors are pared-back and calming – with the whitest sheets and creamy stone showers – and there’s nothing to distract you from their focal points: the private infinity pools where you just gaze out at the most magnificent expanse of big blue.
That sense of visceral connection to the Aegean is transformative here. It clears the mind and heart, and returns you to something much larger. And wait until you try one of the spa’s holistic massages, when you’re kneaded with hot herbal presses personally chosen by the dedicated Greek herbalist Maria Christodoulou.
Breakfasts are unhurried, the tables set with peaches, platters of local cheeses, the flakiest spanakopita and centrepieces dripping with honeycombs and wild flowers. The coffee’s just right, and great scrambled eggs-on-toast provide fuel for a morning’s zig-zag hike up to see the village of Chora. Days are wild, vivid and elemental, especially as the whole premise of the hotel is that you venture on as many ‘safaris’ as you can, following trails to such preternaturally beautiful bays as that of Agios Nikolaos, where the taverna of dreams awaits.
Here, memories are made of devouring grilled-to-perfection seabass and octopus, followed by siestas beneath an aged olive tree; otherwise, the hotel can arrange divine boat trips to even more isolated spots. As for eating at Gundari, the line-up is scant but special: a hushed restaurant – its windows thrown open to a pool that drops into the extreme wilderness and blue horizon – where the chef Lefteris Lazarou grills, smokes and ferments local ingredients into artful dishes. When you’re the island’s only five-star hotel, it takes a lot of conviction to lay on so little.
But Gundari defines luxury differently from most. It invites you to go truly off-grid and immerse yourself in a beguiling, elusive and particularly magical experience. Perched high above the UNESCO world-heritage-listed jurisdiction of Saint-Émilion, Troplong Mondot is the ultimate seductress; its uniform rows of vines, dotted with bright sparks of fuchsia roses, drawing the eye to the honey-hued town beyond.
The 18th-century chateau, with its light filled modern interiors, has five sumptuous en-suite bedrooms that boast stunning vistas, and there are eye-watering ‘caves a vin’ lining the walls of the dining room. The adjacent wisteria-shrouded Keys building has suites offering repose in the softest beds covered in pristine linen, and charming, personalised service. But wherever you’re based, your day will probably start with fortifying coffee and delectable pains aux chocolats – with the option of adding homemade chocolate praline spread – followed by a meander through the grapes to the steep cobblestoned streets of Saint-Émilion.
Of course, wine-tasting at this ‘paradise of Merlot’ is a given; and not to be missed is the hotel’s immersion tour of its estate in a classic 1970s Land Rover. (There are also mini-versions available for junior aficionados on the family adventure tour.) As for timings, visit between April and August to see traditional Percheron horses at work – they’re still valued for limiting soil compaction, unlike tractors, which can restrict root-growth – and in September or October for the harvest, when guests are welcome to join the workers for nourishing, and rather extended, lunches.
The pièce de résistance, however, is the Michelin-starred Les Belles Perdrix restaurant, under the direction of chef David Charrier. (Starting with an aperitif beneath a protective canopy of trees? it’s the perfect spot for some Taittinger Prélude, enhanced by a side of fresh vine tomatoes.) Despite its haute cuisine credentials, the food here is light, and centred around home-grown produce cooked with unsurpassable imagination and creativity.
Think tornado of pollock accompanied by smoked eggplant with shiso, followed by rhubarb ‘belle valentine’ flavoured with almond pesto, verbena and basil. Behold a hotel that doubles as a fantastical medina in the heart of the Red City; albeit of the most palatial kind, where telepathic butlers – more like genies who anticipate your desires – float through fountain-studded courtyards and archways of orange blossom, pruned to perfection. With Moorish grandeur reigning supreme, it could easily win an award for the world’s most Instagrammable hotel.
And would you expect any less from the King of Morocco, who commissioned its creation? Fifteen-hundred craftsmen worked here for over three years, and the result is a show-stoppingly opulent, modern triumph of historic artisanship. The property is an enclave of beautifully-designed individual riads, with rooftop terraces and breathtaking views of the Atlas mountains best savoured over breakfast. (What a spread: eggs every which way, with pancakes and almond butter, and the most finely sliced avocado on toast.
) And by night, you wind through pink-sandstone alleyways lined with soaring palm trees to a palatial building housing such restaurants as the recently opened Hélène Darroze La Grande Brasserie, which revels in proper gilt and glamour, with heavy drapes and satins in jewel tones. However, it’s the pristine white spa, set amidst fragrant gardens straight from The Arabian Nights, that truly steals the show. Yes, there’s a salon for lavish hair treatments that thicken and re-gloss, blending native ingredients with the products of modern science.
But it’s being led from the cool lounge, with its intricate latticework, past the central courtyard where fountains spout and the air is heavy with jasmine, to the marble-clad hammam that feels truly by royal appointment. This is the scene of a time-honoured ritual dating back thousands of years: scrubbing, steaming, dousing and endless muscle-kneading with argan oil, to leave your body as soft as butter and your mind blissfully blank. It elicits the same deeply satisfying feeling as having feasted on seafood chowaya – a decadent lobster tajine – at La Grande Table Marocaine, the hotel’s star restaurant and a destination in its own right.
‘Do not disturb’ should be the motto for this island in the northern Maldives, where the concept is strictly no shoes, no news. Opened in spring of 2024 and the only resort in the Makunudhoo Atoll, it’s staffed by ‘Barefoot Guardians’ – the Soneva version of butlers – who act as buffers between you and lifting a finger; and that’s very important. Because in this distant other-Eden, even the word ‘luxury’ sounds cheap.
Most everything at Soneva Secret is on a different level, starting with the villas, which have all you could ever wish for; not least the gyms supplied with solid wood Nohrd equipment. But here the vibe is less political, more Bond lair: the expansive properties are open-plan, each featuring a kitchen, bedroom suite, sunken dining area, swimming pool. Some even boast a path leading to a private strip of beach, where paddle boards await.
And on the first storeys? Private spa areas that open onto balconies perfect for a recuperative glass of champagne. Soneva Soul, the in-house spa operation, has a menu of more than 100 treatments to choose from: but the Atlas massage, which pulls tricks from around the world, especially Nepal, will leave you feeling stretched, rolled-out to perfection – and ready for some lavish dining. At this resort, the kitchen team hails from different corners of the world; the idea being that, at the click of a finger, guests can have any cuisine they fancy whipped up for them in their own villas.
True, lying in a hammock and reading while the chefs get to work may seem rudely indulgent. But imagine the results. A highlight is the offering from South America – the guacamole is magically fresh, the build-your-own tacos a treat and the grouper crudo creamy and zestful – but just as fantastic are those from Indonesia and Sri Lanka.
Leaving your villa is totally unnecessary, but a particular draw at Soneva Secret is Out of This World, the tasting experience in a castaway tower. (You can also do stargazing here.) As the Indian Ocean crashes round the building, dishes are served in custom-made glassware at bar stools, with the option of cocktail pairing; and truffle tuna sashimi, blue lobster and wagyu beef make up part of the gastronomic adventure.
The currency here is not jewels, or glamour, or who you see. It’s seeing no one and barely thinking about what to wear. This castaway island feels like yours for the taking.
And it is...
Cazenove + loyd (cazloyd.com) offers six nights across two Soneva properties from £13,595, including transfers..
