Estella Shardlow has a stay fit for an Emperor in the Japanese capital…
First impressions count. Pop science says that we take only one tenth of a second to form our judgement of a new person – and it’s difficult to undo this initial read. I’d argue the same sort of instinctive, snap decision-making goes for hotels; a discourteous receptionist or unfinished room can indelibly tarnish a stay, requiring some serious legwork to redeem, whereas a warm greeting, polished check-in and unexpected welcome gift immediately make your shoulders immediately drop, reassured this is going to be a happy stay.
The Peninsula Tokyo falls firmly into the latter category. Your first brush with the hotel may – if you’re willing to splash out – be a private transfer in one of its chauffeur-driven classic cars. The Rolls-Royce Phantom is tempting, but the most feted in the fleet is in fact the custom-spec Toyota Century, an iconic Japanese-made limo in signature Brewster green. Emperor Naruhito has the same model, I’m told.
The hotel’s aji-ishi granite façade has serious curb appeal, too, occupying an entire block in the Maranouchi financial district, opposite the Imperial Palace’s perimeter moats. Staff with smiles as pristine as their white uniforms usher me and Doctor G through the revolving doors and into the 70-metre-high lobby.
Golden fireworks seem to be erupting inside, or perhaps it’s a cloud of fireflies hovering mid-air; on closer inspection, the light show is a spectacular crystal chandelier. As for the bamboo sculpture below this, it resembles an eye, but in fact represents a dragon lying over the universe. Drawing on zodiac mythology in a nod to The Peninsula brand’s Chinese roots, the piece is part of a 1000-strong in-house art collection. But there’s no hanging around for us to gawp; rather queuing at the reception desk, we’re whisked up to our Grand Premier Suite for an eminently civilised, seamless sort of check-in.
Up here on the nineteenth floor, my jaw hits the carpeted (and prettily cherry blossom-patterned) floor when I see the view. Windows wrap the entire south and east walls, loftily overlooking the emperor’s back garden. Dr G immediately peers through the vintage telescope, surveying the palace’s boundary walls and the green expanse of Hibiya Park below, while I’m soon drawn to the spread of sweet treats laid out on our red-lacquered dining table: strawberry-flavoured mochi, macarons, fresh dragon fruit and replicas of the bronze kirin (a sort of deer-dragon-horse hybrid) statues from Tokyo’s Nihonbashi Bridge’s cast in solid white chocolate.
The regal colour scheme, fittingly, is red and gold, or to be more precise, a tasteful burgundy and ochre. These rooms a no-expense-spared love letter to Japanese craft heritage, with 90% of the décor using traditional techniques. Handwoven cedar wood ajiro panels above the bed and sliding doors carved from single pieces of horse chestnut are particularly beautiful. Looking for the television and coffee machine? Cherry wood cabinetry artfully conceals most of the mod cons (and some seemingly not-so-modern; I was bemused to find a fax machine under the desk but later read that the contraptions are still widely used in Japan).
In the ludicrously large dressing rooms, there’s a valet hatch for discreet room service delivery, so you needn’t as much as put on your kimono when that late-night ramen arrives. Sure, I’m in one of the top suites, but even entry-level rooms stretch to 579sqft – vast by Tokyo standards. Unlike many of the capital’s luxury hotels, which are constrained to the upper levels of mixed-use office buildings, The Peninsula has the entire building to play with. Wellness facilities sprawl across two floors: I float in the vitality pool, admiring the swirling, petal-like ceiling reliefs, before ensconcing myself behind a traditional yukimi shoji screen in one of the treatment rooms.
The spa excels at Japanese-inspired rituals – try the balancing Zen ritual (think: Japanese incense ceremony followed by mountain salt foot bath and jade stones massage) or some Shiatsu body work – but also offers hardworking, anti-ageing facials by Margy’s Monte Carlo, infused with collagen or stem cell extract (it’s the only Japanese hotel that stocks the skincare brand).
Out of a whopping six restaurants on-site, our dinner reservation is at penthouse steak spot Peter. With its purple illuminations, the décor is giving what I’d call cruise ship chic, but the panoramic views are a dazzling distraction, the night sky spangled by the lit windows of neighbouring skyscrapers and our table seemingly floating in Tokyo’s iconic skyline.
The menu puts a European haute-cuisine spin Japan’s most prized ingredients. For yours truly, as a pescatarian, this means fresh seafood from nearby Toyosu Market: seared Hokkaido scallops, caviar-topped red snow crab, two ruby-red slivers of seared tuna with white miso and ponzu gel. Doctor G, meanwhile, deliberates between the Hyogo Kobe A4 sirloin and Gifu Hida A5 tenderloin before the waiter helpfully points out he can have 100g portions of both. Instead of the usual go-to bearnaise, he opts for the more local accompaniments of freshly grated wasabi and a citrusy, peppery Sansho sauce.
It came as some surprise to learn this property opened in September 2007, as in many ways it feels like a far more established player – carrying all the airs of a grand dame and a trend-agnostic aesthetic. Then again, Peninsula Hotels as a group has been going strong for almost a century (its Hong Kong hotel opened in 1928), fine tuning its bells-and-whistles amenities and ultra-attentive service.
It’s a string quartet serenading guests at breakfast time, or a copy of the FT neatly folded into the cream upholstered interior of the Toyota Century moving you smoothly across the city. In short, the Peninsula isn’t trying to be cool; it’s a modern classic.
Deluxe Rooms at The Peninsula Tokyo start from JPY 100,000 per night (approx £515). For more information, please visit www.peninsula.com.
