One of the first things you notice when you travel to Asian cities is how the Western corporations appropriate the local traditions to fit in. Usually it’s about as culturally comfortable as your dad wearing a bindi to a Hindu wedding (this analogy doesn't work if your dad is Hindu, of course).

In Bangkok, for example, the sight of Ronald MacDonald doing his forced clownish bowing outside the Thai outposts of his fast food chain never fails to illicit a cringe though maybe it’s better than him not doing it? I don’t know, you’d have to ask a local, but to me it feels a bit ‘white person wearing native headdress to Coachella’.

Starwood are a western brand but with their much-vaunted W Bangkok hotel, they’ve thrown themselves into placing this property with so much gusto you can only really admire it. Just walking into the lobby is an assault in the senses as vivid Thai imagery comes at you from every corner.

Some 80,000 crystals have been employed in huge collages amid the black marble backdrop and foreground of young fashion bloggers looking at their phone screens. A tiger fights a phoenix for…reasons? A lobby nymph does explain it to me but my old ears lose the thread beneath the curated trip-hop.

The other motifs include Thai Boxing – lobby drinking booths are fashioned over traditional ringside fixtures – and pimped-up tuk-tuks with artistic light installations. It’s kind of spectaular, like if young people had a go at redesigning Vegas.

In London or New York, you’d expect a hefty dose of disdain from the staff if you didn’t show up wearing Skrillex t-shirt but that famed Thai hospitality shines on through and the staff can’t help but be wonderfully helpful.

If you’ve stayed at Ws before, you know what you’re in for with the rooms – bold colours and tech-forward amenities with local touches that double as expensive souvenirs. The latter in this case is a delightful pair of oversized gold Thai boxing gloves (no, YOU danced around in your pants pretending to be Rocky).

Adjusting the lighting and temperature from a tablet still feels wonderfully futuristic to me, but I remember Friendster, so what do I know? In short, the rooms are great and if W prices are a bit too rich for you in Western cities, then the value on parade in Thailand provides a good opportunity to try it out.

Across the forecourt is a very different experience altogether. Still part of the hotel, the House on Sathorn (named after the road/neighbourhood we’re in) is a painstakingly-restored 19th century mansion that was formerly the Russian embassy in Thailand. It has beautiful, wood-framed colonial dining rooms and an expansive courtyard which had a DJ even at 10am when I looked around (possibly still there from the night before).

The to-be-expected modern freebies are all present and correct – fast, free WiFi so that stream of Instagram updates of you wearing your pants and huge boxing gloves needn’t suffer, and a breakfast buffet (if you book that rate) that is on a par with the city’s most sumptuous. If you’re into that sort of thing, the spa is pretty space-age and the rooftop pool delivers what all rooftop pools are supposed to in terms of views and a feeling of quiet superiority.

The immediate neighbourhood, Sathorn, took a few years to catch up to the W but there should now be enough cafes, bars and restaurants to keep those fashion bloggers happy. I didn’t see a bowing Ronald MacDonald, but it’s probably just a matter of time.  (PO)

The last time I was in an Anantara property, around a decade ago, I took a weird driving test. It was in the northern Thai city of Chiang Rai, and out in the forest, the hotel’s resident elephant expert taught me as best he could how to steer an elephant, with – let’s be honest – mixed results.

Memories of that (very ethically run) camp came flooding back as I checked into the palatial Anantara Siam Bangkok, coinciding with a curiosity about the city credentials of a brand I’d previously associated with grand resorts.

The Anantara Siam Bangkok is downtown, but, like, posh downtown – that stretch round the corner from Chit Lom where the Royal Bangkok Sports Club is and the Grand Hyatt and the St Regis. You’re in a fairly average shopping district and then you turn down Ratchadamri Road and it’s like one of those lifestyle magazines you only see in airport lounges.

Its previous incarnation as the Four Seasons, and some characteristics remain, though it’s been given a colourful flourish. The marble staircase steals the show in the lobby, which is no small feat considering the silk murals and frescoed walls and intricate mandalas on the ceilings. I’d arrived pretty late, and though welcome drinks are never that much of a chore, I didn’t stand on ceremony and hightailed it up to my room.

The view would have to wait until morning, and I just had chance to note the solidly 5-star décor – nothing too flashy, marble bathroom, dark woods with colourful silk accents – before conking out.

The next morning, I got the full postcard treatment, the panoramic greenery of the Royal Bangkok Sports Club’s horse racing track and golf course spread out before the hotel, like you’d paid to be in a particularly nice stand. I’m a fan of the shambolic chaos of Bangkok, but this landscaped oasis works as well.

I went to stretch my legs, and was grateful for the handy smartphone that comes with the room, my jetlagged fug meaning my already poor sense of direction was way off kilter, the online maps helping me find my way back for further exploration of the property.

The hotel restaurants and shops are largely collected around a large indoor tropical garden, and it’s here that we can finally address the elephants in the room. They’re here largely due to an apparent partnership with the famed Jim Thompson House, hanging on the walls in colourful silks and carved from dark teak.

Thompson, of course, is the mysterious (he disappeared without a trace) importer/exporter of Thai artefacts and his empire is now a museum and retail one. The main court at the Siam enjoys a healthy dollop of his tasteful décor, some of the arcade walls also home to some striking contemporary local art.

It felt rude not to eat a lunch that Mr Thompson might have approved of, so despite the international dining options available, I lunched at the Spice Market. The deep-fried fish cakes and crab meat salad leading into a spicy sour orange curry, a new one on me but something I’ll look out for again.

​Sadly, that was the extent of my one-night stay and I left the Anantara without having taken any elephant driving tests, instead just wishing that I could steer my tuk-tuk driver with anything approaching the same amount of control. No, sir I do not want to drop in on your cousin’s jewel shop on the way to the next hotel, but thanks for offering…

Before we can talk about anything else at the Ampersand Hotel, let’s address the elephant in the room. 

The elephant is one I have never seen before in any of the hotels I’ve ever stayed in, from Cardiff to Caracas. It’s an easy elephant to spot as it’s on a pedestal right there in front of the windows.  

Could it be a modern art installation? Nope. It’s definitely a bathtub. In the bedroom. Yes, not in the bathroom, where, to my mind, bathtubs have naturally thrived for centuries, but right next to the bed. In the window of my first floor room, looking out onto the busy streets of South Kensington.

I can see this being a very divisive design feature. It’s definitely a bold use of space. Truth is, I kind of like it. It makes me feel like an A-list film star who has made an unreasonable demand about where their bath should be and some quivering interior designer has had to indulge me. “You want the bathtub…next to the bed?” “YES, NEXT TO THE BED! WHY ARE YOU QUESTIONING ME?”

I’m not in my element in West London. I mainly walk around just thinking about how I don’t have the breeding or money to walk around in this part of the city. I mean, I can navigate the cosmopolitan coffee menus and complicated salads, but it’s not my scene, generally. 

I was sceptical that I’d find the hotel to my taste. From the outside, it looks knowingly swanky, a semi-looming presence as you exit South Ken tube. Oh great, I thought. It’s going to be raft of people lining up to look down their noses at me and my non-designer luggage and off-brand haircut. 

My fears were allayed, though. The reception staff are the opposite of snooty and the porter engages me in some conspiratorial working class banter as we take the lift up. 

It’s the day of a tube strike, so my bus journey here in the middle of summer was less than comfortable, and I’m almost audibly sighing at the airiness of the room. Bold colours, a sprawling bed, that bathtub in the window. Yes, I thought, we’ll do well here. The royal ‘we’. It’s Kensington, after all. 

Small details make me very happy in hotel rooms. A lighting situation that doesn’t require a primer in theoretical physics. A desk with adapters and USB ports, etc, built into the side of it (this should be standard by now) and – a rare treat, and perhaps a silly one, but you cannot go wring with a heated tile bathroom floor. Yes, in August. I’ll stand by the comforting nature of this amenity in any climate. 

I was only staying for 18 hours, so apart from a cursory amount of lolling about in the bright public spaces, I only had two other experiences. 

I always feel like you’re being doubly righteous by going to a gym in a hotel. I feel good about going when I’m NOT surrounded by luxurious bedding and window bathtubs, but to crowbar myself out of a comfy room and go? That’s beyond the call of duty. It’s a smallish basement exercise room, but high-tech and well-stocked with towels/waters enough to be more than the sum of its parts. 

After a night’s sleep (I didn’t notice any traffic noise despite being on a busy high street), I also tried the breakfast in the hotel restaurant, Apero. It’s a cellar-like room, but sunny and staffed with servers patient enough to deal with a super-demanding American family who at one point were trying to get another family evicted just because they couldn’t get the table they wanted. 

As much as I enjoy dining room kerfuffles, I was distracted enough by the frankly impressive buffet selection (like being given the keys to a high-end deli) and an a la carte menu that was an easy victory over my no-carbs intentions. Super high quality all round (The hotel has two other dining spaces: The Drawing Rooms and The Wine Rooms).  

Reader, after breakfast, I took that bath. The sun on my face. Suds spilling over like I’m in a Cadbury’s Flake advert. South Kensington going about its business outside. I felt like that rockstar. For 30 minutes. Then I packed my cases, checked out, and waited for a bus. 

Website: www.amersandhotel.com 

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