BY Alexandra Sharova

Some places defy words, while others define them. Raffles Singapore is opulence personified, embodying timeless elegance from another era. If the Sikh doormen, clad in military-inspired garb, at the colonial property’s main entrance are not a clear foreshadowing of the grandeur to come, the lambent lobby is a dead giveaway. Floor-to-ceiling Victorian pillars stretching three stories high frame the apex of the space, a handblown crystal chandelier strategically illuminated by a skylight. Plush velvet chairs and tables hold tiered trays of finger sandwiches, scones, and cakes, all thoughtfully arranged for afternoon tea. As champagne flutes clink in celebration—perhaps a honeymoon toast—the melodic timbre of a harp breaks the soft chatter of the filled-up space. My partner and I look at one another with a charmed look that says, “We have arrived…in heaven.”

Our butler—yes, butler—leads us to our suite, passing several of the “personality suites” that pay homage to Raffles’ renowned guests, like Joseph Conrad, Rudyard Kipling, and Ava Gardner, along the way. Divided into three sections, the parlor, bedroom, and a Peranakan design tiled bathroom—to honor Singapore’s melange of cultures—our accommodation is spacious and elevated. Yet, it manages to have an air of home, a tough feeling to replicate, especially for two people traveling around South East Asia for the better part of three months. Before excusing himself, Sunny offers an array of services I couldn’t even dream of. We opt for the evening bath. Our itinerary is packed in typical form, and we’re rushing out the door to lunch just moments after checking-in. On my way out, I grab a Raffles signature Pandan Kaya tart (a jam-filled biscuit). After all, the property’s gross floor area is over 10 acres, it could be a long walk. I quickly learn that the sprawling acreage will prolong my typically tardy arrival time because today’s Raffles is more of a polished maze than the 10-room bungalow it was when doors opened in 1887.

Greeted by smiling faces and the finest bubbly, we’re seated at a sunny booth inside Osteria BBR by Alain Ducasse. Previously the Bar and Billiard Room, this was the scene of the notorious 1902 shooting of an escaped circus tiger. To say Raffles Singapore has a storied past would be a disservice to the protected national heritage site; if only walls could talk… Our vermillion seat proves ideal for people watching. The crowd is chic: ladies lunching, families gathering, and business deals unfolding all under one roof. We begin with the signature dish, a Monaco staple: Tartar di Gambero Rosso. I’m not even big on shrimp, yet this is undoubtedly one of the most sophisticatedly balanced appetizers I’ve tasted; but then again, can buffalo mozzarella cream topped with Kristal caviar ever do wrong? The sommelier brings fresh flutes for a less sweet variant to accompany the rest of the meal. Whenever I find myself in an especially esteemed establishment, I indulge in raw meat, so naturally, the Battuta di Manzzo (black Angus beef tartare) was a must-try. The verdict? A symphony of sweet, savory, and acidic notes met by equally contrasting textures: cotton candy-esque beef topped with crunchy hazelnuts, all on a bed of parmesan sauce. We sit, hands interlaced, giddy from the change of scenery, rich Italian dishes, and the promise of what is still to come—this was only the first stop.

In a slight delirium from the early flight and overzealous consumption of champagne, after a long hiatus, we leave the comforts of our air-conditioned suite for some much-needed shopping. The balmy air and drastic shift in temperature cloud my camera lens with opaque haze. We leave our enclave searching for a mall; as odd as it sounds, it’s been a while since we had the convenience of Western goods. Walking through the city, as the sun rolls towards the horizon, I feel like I’m in New York—if it lost its hallmark grit and grime. Singapore lies on the opposite side of the spectrum as one of the safest and strictest countries in the world. Everything is immaculate, and the economy is booming, but that comes at the hefty price of fines for spitting, smoking, and you can forget about chewing gum. A fiery sunset cuts through my thoughts and the monochrome landscape. Juxtaposed against the backdrop of reflective skyscrapers, Raffles offers an oasis in the middle of the city, transporting guests to another era; between British colonial expansion and the Gilded Age. Perhaps there really is a glitch in the space-time continuum because, within the creamy walls, time travel is a reality.

Donning our new staple pieces, we head for a pre-dinner drink at moody Long Bar, home of the original Singapore Sling. Smooth jazz plays while palm fans lazily sway overhead. Each table is equipped with peanuts in burlap bags, adding to the tropical plantation-esque scene. We sip on the nearly-fluorescent, unofficial cocktail of the nation, which is still made using a hand-operated shaker from 1915. There is a correlation (or causation) between the diminishing levels of the fruity concoction and our growing laughter. Famously made with four different liquors, the smooth flavor has a way of sneaking up on you. It’s a good thing guests are encouraged to brush peanut shells onto the floor—perhaps the only place in Singapore where “littering” is welcomed—because being tidy is the last thing on my mind; food, however, is.

A few misplaced turns, and we’re lost. Luckily, Raffles has some of the most helpful staff I have encountered during my travels, and we’re led with a warm smile to Michelinstarred Butcher’s Block. Upon entry, we’re face-to-face with fresh veggie ingredients and aged-to-perfection slabs of beef glistening behind glass. We sit next to one another, rather than across, and take in the smart design; dark-blue lacquered walls and beamed ceiling seamlessly complement the brass and copper hardware while drawing attention to the “stage,” the wood-fire open-concept kitchen. Sam, the sommelier, expertly and enthusiastically guides us along our culinary journey with thoughtful pairings of champagne, wine, and even sake. This spot is a steak-lovers fantasy, which begins with a wagyu tartare that’s so buttery, you’d think it was cooked. Presented in an actual shell—an effort towards zero-waste cooking—the brown crab tartlet is so delicious it could moonlight as a dessert. Served alongside an Osaka sake, smoked sashimi decorated with N25 caviar, all atop a marbled sauce, delights on every point. We get to know Sam, our servers, and Chef Jordan Keao in-between bites. Everyone here truly loves what they do; the team is like family—a sentiment that translates to the service. We sample Norwegian clams, fresh marron, and an Australian wagyu before wrapping up our indulgence with a gastronomical lemon tart and some digestifs.

In a daze from a truly memorable meal, we arrive back at our suite to find the bath drawn—bubbles, fresh roses, and all—as well as a printed copy of the short story Rudyard Kipling, wrote during his 1888 visit. When checking in, we mentioned our affinity for the writer, but this level of above-and-beyond care blows me away. We sink into the still hot water and read the tale, feeling like all this, can’t be real.

Mornings at Raffles are spent in the Tiffin Room, established in 1892, enjoying the most elaborate spread. Every breakfast desire is met here. I lean into my Slavic roots opting for pickled herring on rye bread, blini with roe, and some pastries for good measure. We spend the following hour soaking up the sun at the rooftop pool, looking past the emerald bar at the futuristic skyline. Leaving the nostalgia of the 19th century behind, we venture to one of Singapore’s crowned jewels, the Gardens by the Bay. The park spans 250 acres and is as close to real-life Avatar as one can get. The Cloud Forest is home to a 114-foot indoor waterfall, while the Flower Dome, which holds the Guinness World Record for the largest glass greenhouse, hosts an overwhelming collection of global flora. Though we could spend all day here, with our heads tilted back in awe of how the city manages to beautifully marry technological advancements with nature, it’s time for a very late lunch at two-time Michelin star-awarded La Dame de Pic.

The restaurant is reminiscent of art deco glamor; pink undertones, velvet booths, gold accents, and sweeping mirrors set the scene for a French fusion tasting experience. An amuse-bouche platter is placed before us, making it clear that presentation is paramount because each canapé looks like art. The bonbon is a tiny cocktail contained within a fuschia ball, the uni tartlet, decorated with lilac seaweed and flowers, takes me away to a seaside town I’ve never visited, and the tuna tartare palate cleanser, topped with black currant sorbet, is the unexpected combination I didn’t know I needed. AnneSophie Pic puts on an exquisite gastronomical show that marries cultures and the finest ingredients with ingenious charm. Whether it’s black pepper from Madagascar or uni from Japan, every player in the performance is the best of the best.

We rush to our historical tour of the grounds, where Roslee, the in-house historian, shares fun facts, anecdotes, and wild stories from the hotel’s colorful past. Post-tour, we settle on the shared balcony in front of our suite to do some work. Sunny approaches us to check in about the bath and see if we need anything else. He says we look amazing and asks to take our photo—we coyly oblige before heading to the spa, where we go to our respective treatments. In the calming lounge, I hydrate with geminfused water and some detoxing tea before beginning my plumping facial by Biologique Recherche. My specialist works highly concentrated formulas composed of active botanical, marine and biological ingredients with vibration-mimicking motions into my skin. After the multi-step treatment, I have the most supple glow of my life, all achieved manually and without chemicals—who knew that was possible? I linger in the spa, making the most of the thermal facilities before emerging renewed in time for our final dinner.

Feeling reborn and relaxed, we melt into a cozy booth at Tiffin Room, the oldest Indian restaurant in the city. My English boyfriend is a connoisseur, so I sit back, letting him handle the order. Arriving in authentic tiffin boxes, dahl, samosas, and several curries cover our table. The dishes are like a hug (with a kick), thanks to a cornucopia of traditional spices that rarely entertain my palate. Beyond satiated, we turn in for the night, both unsure of how we’ve consumed so much incredible food in just two days’ time.

After a walk through the grounds and a coffee on the terrace, we take advantage of the fully stocked gym before returning to what we do best in Singapore: eating. Our last supper is at yi by Jereme Leung. The entry is ornamented with thousands of paper flowers, creating an ethereal scene. The set menu offers an elevated take on age-old Chinese family recipes, many of which are not served anywhere else in the country. A procession of beautiful dishes paired with wines and teas make their impression. Crispy duck, Japanese sweet shrimp that’s so smooth it could pass for toro, a gelatinous sea cucumber and fish stew that feels like it’s healing me from the inside out, and a glazed cod for the books, show me that I’ve never really had Chinese food until now. And on that thought, we dart out of artful yi, to not miss our flight.

Back at the lobby, we’re handed a bag of goodies: cookies, Raffles signature jam, gourmet chocolates, and the photo Sunny took of us the day prior, framed. While there’s no arguing that the household name is the epitome of a world-class hotel, it’s the attention to detail and personalized care that brings guests back, time and time again. A sleek Mercedes-Benz takes us to our next adventure, as the Raffles experience replays in my mind like a classic movie, rich in nostalgia.*