Mr & Mrs Smith

I’m known in some circles (OK then, all circles) for being a bit, well, pernickety. Mr Smith might say I’m high maintenance, but I prefer to think of myself as simply very sensitive to the aesthetics of my surroundings. Whatever you want to call it, it’s true that I like everything around me to be just so – the colour palette, the choice of textures, the lighting. I’m basically a fussy Phyllis when it comes to interiors. My preference is for clean lines and sharp edges. I’ve never been drawn to places that can be described as ‘rustic’ and, when travelling, we tend to seek out the latest hotel on the block in order to guarantee ourselves the shiny, pristine finish of the truly new. So it was with a little trepidation that we booked into Six Senses Hua Hin, a well-established fixture on this particular swathe of the Gulf of Thailand coast. It’s designed, furthermore, in a style the hotel describes as ‘rustic chic’. Hmmmm…

 

I needn’t have worried. On arrival, we’re greeted with smiles but there’s no check-in desk to be seen. Instead, we’re installed in a golf buggy and whizzed down a maze of palm-fringed paths directly to our villa. This sets the tone for the entire ethos of Six Senses – everything is personal and one-to-one, with private space very much at the heart of your experience.

 

Ah yes, our room. Even before I realise that we’ve been upgraded to a villa suite (don’t forget that this, like all Smith reviews, was done anonymously, so there was no special treatment), I know at a glance that I am going to be happy here. The villa more than meets my stringent criteria and is at once beautifully designed and pleasingly in keeping with its surroundings. The suite, made up of two separate pavilions flanking the entrance path, is all floor-to-ceiling sliding doors and sunlight streaming through glinting glass. The effect is soothing, uplifting and immensely peaceful. Inside, buttery tones blend with the limed wood furniture, and a flash of crisp white – romantically draped mozzie nets above our bed and the expanse of bedlinen – keeps it fresh. Both the living and bedroom pavilions open onto a creamy stone deck and a respectably sized infinity pool in one of the most mouth-watering shades of blue I have ever set eyes on. With a sunken sala – for a shady poolside lunch or evening cocktails – at one end, two ultra-comfy sunloungers at the other, and tranquil lily ponds in between, we find it hard to believe that this gorgeous pad is all our own for the next two days.

 

After donning a bikini (although with such a high level of privacy, you could skip the costume), I grab the in-villa literature and settle on a sunlounger to learn all about our temporary home. ‘Six Senses has a menu of 40 home-made ice-cream flavours,’ I read aloud to Mr Smith. ‘And did you realise its Earth Spa is made entirely of mud?’ After a while, I’m satisfied that I now know everything about the hotel, from why it doesn’t offer on-site dry-cleaning (ecological reasons) to which dialling code I’d need to call Andorra (can’t remember, sorry). As I’m navigating the stepping stones back across the lily pond to my room, I lose my balance and one of the leather-bound information folders falls into the pond with a plop. Drying it out, we hope that housekeeping won’t notice it now looks a whole lot more rustic.

 

Later that afternoon, our lovely butler, KK, pops in to introduce herself and we brief her on our rather hectic dietary requirements (one of us veggie, the other pregnant) as the Hideaway’s restaurant operates a table d’hôte arrangement of nightly set menus. KK is unfazed and arranges a menu specially created for us by the chef.

We pass the rest of the day lounging about in anticipation, revelling in our blissful seclusion, and admiring the tropical foliage surrounding our pool – frangipani, hibiscus and palm trees. Poor long-suffering Mr Smith ends up on intimate terms with these plants over the course of a couple of games of pool Frisbee – I’m just not a great aim, but at least the Frisbee never ended up in anyone else’s villa.

 

Dinner that evening totally meets our expectations – the open-to-the-elements Living Room restaurant, exclusively for hotel guests (the other restaurants are all shared with the larger, adjoining Evason resort), is sophisticated yet chilled-out. KK has reserved us a table in one of the salas sunken into the expanses of lily ponds, and we dine reclining on mounds of oversized cerise cushions. The food is delicious, the service spot-on, and the whole evening just the balmy and romantic experience we spent so many grey days in London dreaming about.

 

After a blissful night’s sleep, we spend the following day having a lazy late breakfast by our pool, snoozing in the sunshine and trying out the spa. Mr Smith, who suffers from chronic back pain, declares that he’s found the therapist who’s coming to live with us on our luxury desert island when we win the lottery.

 

All too soon, it’s time to leave. It’s not easy saying goodbye to our comfortable cocoon of privacy and luxury, as well as KK who’s looked after us so well. I can barely even remember my initial reservations about this stay. If this is rustic chic, I’m a convert.