In my line of work, I get to stay in plenty of incredible hotels with each one madly competing with the other to see how it can redefine the idea of luxury accommodation. I’ve stayed in two-storey suites overlooking the Arabian Gulf with access to the rooftop helipad (Burj Al Arab). Suites with dazzling views of an ancient 8th-century temple (Amanjiwo).
Villas with 24/7 butler service (take your pick). Suites so sprawling that they literally have their own postcode (Rosewood London). Vast music-themed suites filled with acoustic guitars, a DJ booth, and entire cupboards filled with candy, snacks and an actual popcorn maker (Mandarin Oriental Landmark Hong Kong).
Suites with a separate karaoke room (Umana Bali). Yadda yadda..
. In other words, when it comes to a hotel room – don’t come at me, now – it takes a lot to impress me. But the one experience that’s long been missing from the CV has been a stay in a presidential suite.
Perhaps it’s because there’s such an element of unreality about the whole thing. I mean, staying in a beach-side villa with a hovering butler is one thing. You could easily pretend to be a low-key movie star or a Silicon tech mogul.
But a presidential suite? How do you pretend to be a president? Well, after a recent overnight in the presidential suite at the newly renovated Grand Hyatt Singapore, let me tell you that the answer is – quite easily. So easily, in fact, that you almost understand how George Santos got away with his delusional .
