Portrait Milano

There are two rules when taking your mother away with you for a girls’ break: the first is make sure it is somewhere impossibly chic, ridiculously luxurious, and makes her feel like a queen. The second looks after the first: take her to the Portrait Milano.

I had been looking for the perfect opportunity to whisk my mum away. With her living in the UK and me in Italy, we have established a very lovely new-era tradition of meeting
in a different city every couple of months, taking it in turn to surprise the other with where. She has the easy end of the deal here, as I will happily go anywhere. Me, on the
other hand, not so much. She’s not a fan of intense heat, nor winter activities, nor walking for longer than five minutes to eat somewhere nice, which narrows my options for getting experimental. As does her love of going to a seriously chic city hotel that’s in the heart of the best shops and restaurants, as they’re generally all booked up months in
advance.

With the date fast approaching, my prayers were answered when an invitation to visit Portrait Milano arrived in my inbox. I quickly ran the checklist: early September, warm, but not too hot — tick! Milan, super chic, full of people watching, unbearably chic — tick! The Portrait Milano, gorgeous, luxurious, and backing onto the shopping haven that is Via Montenapoleone? Tick, tick, tick!

As we pulled up to the imposing courtyard entrance, we were immediately greeted by the concierge, who escorted us to the most sumptuous of lobbies, where we were met with a welcome drink. No queuing up to check-in here; instead we were introduced to the building — recently renovated, no corner left untouched; given a guide as to where to explore in the local area; and brought up to one of its 73 suites. Already Mama Smith was feeling like the most important person in the hotel (I could tell as she kept nudging me) and that was even before we were greeted by glasses of bubbles and a special birthday pastry from Milan’s most prized confection destination, the Marchesi Pasticceria (I had arranged it ahead of time).

Shoes off and slippers on — the first thing Mama Smith does these days when reaching any destination — we sank into our armchairs and toasted the trip. As I dug into the new issue of Wallpaper* magazine that was waiting for us, Mama Smith unpacked, marvelling at the capacious wardrobe, closet accoutrements (lint roller, clothes brush et
al); the bar that was stocked with not only every beverage we could have imagined, but a professional mixology set; and the Carrara marble bathroom.

Beauty products arranged as on the counter of a luxury department store and cases packed away, we headed out for a wander. It was balmy but breezy, making it the
ideal afternoon for the pre-requisite window shopping on Milan’s most famous shopping street. The hotel literally backs onto Via Montenapoleone, so it was within the pre-approved proximity. After quick pops into Gucci, Bottega Veneta, Prada and friends, we ducked off the main stretch into Il Salumaio di Montenapoleone for a refreshment. Having spent years in Milan for work as a journalist, this is a top tip for a pitstop in this particular part of town as it’s an IYKYK kind of place, where you can always find a seat. We opted to stand at the bar, where we could have a cold glass of wine and share a plate of nibbles from the nearby deli counter, as we weren’t in the mood for a big meal. Our wander then turned into more of a walk than expected — wonders will never cease, Milano was clearly agreeing with Mama Smith! — and before we knew it we were in Brera, stocking up on Santa Maria Novella toiletries, Lisa Corti cushion covers and twinkly jewels as early birthday presents to each other, from each other.

Not one for an electric scooter, Mama Smith flagged a taxi to take us back to the hotel, where we arrived five minutes later. As she had a siesta, I caught up on some calls and
emails downstairs on the terrace with a jasmine tea — a delightful spot where the tranquillity belies the bustle taking place on the streets all around it and you are completely left alone unless you don’t want to be.

That evening, we took the concierge’s recommendation and headed to Sant Ambroeus — the recently opened Milano outpost of the eatery made famous in New York. Like everything on our 'see-how-we-go' itinerary, it was less than a five-minute walk across Piazza San Babila. This is another fabulous place for a non-touristy spot in what is
widely regarded as tourist central. After Bellinis mixed up at the bar, we went classic and dined on chicken Milanese, linguine alle vongole, side dishes of courgettes and buttery spinach, and a tiramisu to share to finish. As we sauntered home, I started to think that Mama Smith’s five-minute rule had something going for it.

The next 24 hours played out much as the previous, with the inclusion of a gym workout in lieu of a treatment as the spa was closed, and the most delicious room-service
breakfast. We both agree this is the most luxurious treat when staying in a hotel, so seldom make it to a communal space, although I hazard a guess that the hotel’s downstairs dining room would have been the one to change our minds. We headed there in the early evening to have an aperitivo surrounded by books and art and comforting low-level laughter, before setting off for a twilight walk. I wanted to show Mama Smith the Teatro alla Scala, the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, and, of course, the Duomo, all of which are a stone’s throw from the Portrait, and which she delighted in seeing for the first time.

As we wandered back to the hotel, planning our departure the following day, we did what we usually do: wished we could stay longer and promised to come back. Which got me thinking… with such a specific criteria, met in every way by the Portrait Milano, where all of our needs were so perfectly catered to, and the look of joy on Mama Smith’s face every time I looked at her, maybe when it comes to next time, we should do just that.