Mr & Mrs Smith

Spanish profanity, some sweat and several rolled-down-window conversations between our taxi driver and street-curb teenagers later, and we eventually pull up at the entrance of Basico. Despite its location in the centre of the action in happening Playa del Carmen, it's no wonder the hotel was difficult to find: the doorway is nondescript, and the lobby beyond is bare and shadowy. As for that Mexican summer heat – it’s still stifling at twilight.

Dragging our twin suitcases towards reception, and it feels as though Mr Smith and I are protagonists in a Choose Your Own Adventure book. Or the stars of that Woody Allen movie in which one story is told two ways – first as a comedy and then as a tragedy. That’s because Basico is totally unconventional. It’s kind of place that divides people into two camps – it all depends on your perspective. Artistic types will marvel at its originality and innovative design, while more conservative travellers might grumble about the absence of amenities.

So, are we to be open-minded hipsters or stick-in-the-muds? The test begins as we board the industrial elevator that seems ripped right out of an old factory. We're escorted into our large, glass-encased corner suite, Patricia and the escapade really gets rollicking as we discover that the rooms are constructed largely from recycled materials. The drapes are long strips of rubber made from old car tires, the retro sink seems pulled from a public restroom, and the oversized bed, though topped with fluffy pillows and luxurious white linens, appears a former hospital fixture. Initial verdict? Positive – phew. The look is cool and unusual, a breath of fresh air after so many generic resorts and luxury chain hotels.

It’s not like we're roughing it – the room boasts several features that are clearly not in the recycled category, notably the floor-to-ceiling picture windows, flat-screen TV, mini-fridge, minimalist chaise lounge, and <drum roll, please> an incredible shower. It is undoubtedly the largest we've ever seen, and served with a similarly oversized rain forest showerhead.

After the first of several unnecessary baths, we head out for a night on the town. Basico is perfectly located right on the pedestrian thoroughfare that runs parallel to the coastline. We stroll hand-in-hand past charming sidewalk cafes, fluorescent-lit tequila shops, swimwear boutiques and bistros where throngs of beautiful Italian tourists drink wine. We know we're supposed to dine somewhere fashionable to really soak up Playa's atmosphere, but the aroma of slow-cooking pork at a corner taco shop called Aca los Tacos proves irresistible. Forget rubbing shoulders with the jet set – within ten minutes we're sitting at a plastic table under the stars, drinking margaritas and watching local men dig into quesadillas and nachos.

Jet-lagged, we decide to head back to the hotel for a nightcap on the top terrace before turning in early. As we step onto the rooftop, we're taken aback both by the outlook and also the people. The terrace is stunning, with ocean views, a well-stocked bar snaking along one wall, a killer sound system, a pair of small but striking above-ground pools (recycled tanks, of course) and several canopied daybeds where good-looking young people recline languidly. The scene could be a Calvin Klein ad. Basico is winning points for style and ambience left and right – which means, naturally, that it’s time for a contrast – cue our adventure takes a new turn.

We're in for it alright, when we return to the Patricia suite at midnight. We climb into bed but it sounds like we never left the party: we hear laughter, pumping bass, and splashing water as clearly as if we were still sitting on the rooftop. Mr Smith, ever practical, points out that our lovely floor-to-ceiling windows come with a serious downside: there's no insulation from the outside world. We hear every voice on the street and every drink order on the terrace until reception kindly sends us a few pairs of earplugs. We agree that we probably should have stayed at the party with the Calvin Klein set; uh-oh, we are, in fact, veering into stick-in-the-mud territory – I mean honestly, who goes to bed here before 2am? In the morning, we're questioning our commitment to style over comfort. We had liked the idea of the recycled tyre blinds; not so much when we're awakened to the scent of burning rubber as the hot morning sun blazes through our windows.

As with any adventure, the story twists and turns – and we quickly forgive the design flaws after some glorious moments on the terrace. It's midday and the beach is baking when we return, sticky and sandy, to Basico. We find the rooftop empty and idyllic, and the bartender carries icy cairpirinhas over to us as we kick back in the tank pools and gaze at the sea beyond. Intimate, fashionable and luxurious? Check, check, and check. An evening's leisurely meal at Basico's casual fish market-style restaurant, where we feast on fresh fish and squid, seals the deal. That's the thing about Basico – you just have to revel in its originality while you can, throw back some cocktails, stay at the party, and keep a sense of humour even when you smell burning rubber. In the end, we're neither overly hip or helplessly square – we're just a couple of people learning in our travels and in life, to take things as they come.