Potato Head Suites at Desa Potato Head

It’s pretty common nowadays to covet something in your hotel room so much that you want to steal it – a particularly chic dressing gown that makes you feel like Lauren Bacall or a really comfy pair of slippers, say.

But it’s not all that often you want to somehow pack the entire room into your suitcase, including every single navy woven throw and each piece of mid-century furniture. It was only the fact that I couldn’t possibly squeeze the Louis Poulsen pendant lamp into my Bric’s wheely case, or prise the terrazzo tiles in the bathroom off the wall that stopped me from nicking the lot when I stayed at Potato Head Suites at Desa Potato Head.

Which is my kleptomaniac way of saying that whoever designed the rooms here has serious style. They’re incredibly well-thought out and dotted with locally-made crafts – such as the covetable hand-woven bath robes made by artisans from Blahbatuh village.

The whole experience feels very much like you’re loafing at a (very chic, very rich) friend’s house, rather than staying a hotel. Even the artwork on the wall is actually interesting for once (rather than don’t-scare-the-horses-bland), like the pop graphics of rising Indonesian artist Wedhar Riyaidi.

And then there’s the minibar – sorry ‘maxibar’ – which deserves a whole paragraph in its own right. So here goes. Forget tiny bottles of tonic water and bags of KP nuts, the in-room bar here is a Tom Cruise movie waiting to happen. Among the elegant glass bottles on your mirrored shelf are sencha whiskey, archipelago bitters and roasted-pineapple arak (the local spirit). There’s a well of ice, a glass of every description and even a cloth bag of serious-looking cocktail-making kit including muddlers and strainers and other implements I had not a clue how to use.

Luckily part of the check-in process includes a bar tender coming to your room to fix you a welcome mojito, while another member of staff taps your details into a tablet. So much cooler than sipping a fruit juice at a crowded reception desk. It makes you wonder why more hotels don’t do this.

The Brutalist-like building is made entirely from terracotta temple bricks and looks like nothing else on this stretch of Seminyak. It also offers a unique, and rather grand-sounding ‘Cultural Programme’ which runs the gamut from personal PT sessions in the immaculate gym, to a Balinese blessing at the hotel temple (‘traditional ceremony attire will be provided’).

Elsewhere, the Akademi cocktail bar could easily be a hip Brooklyn hangout, not a Bali hotel bar, and comes complete with a record player, a library of books and curated collection of cacti. The hotel’s restaurant is the Melbourne tapas institution MoVida, which sounds a bit incongruous, but with a really interesting menu featuring sea-urchin custard, wagyu tartare, and a whole section of tinned fish, it’s unmissable. Although it’s a shame the staff aren’t able to give a clear answer on how many dishes we should order which led to Mr Smith and I somehow ordereing enough tapas to feed a small army – and meant we were too full to order the amazing-sounding creme caramel (which still haunts me to this day).

The suites are owned, of course, by the folks who set up Potato Head Beach Club – Bali’s first and most famous beach club, located just across the way. Hotel guests get preferential treatment at the club – they can book one of the sand-side daybeds free of charge – and even if you’re not a swim-up-bar-and-house-music kind of person, it’s worth spending the afternoon here, if only for the snacks.

I’ve never met a cinnamon bun I didn’t like, but this one – brought to me on my ocean-view day-bed by a charming man in a Hawaiian shirt – was a perfect curl of doughy, just-baked deliciousness.

Potato Head Suites gets so much right that when it gets it (a little) wrong you feel weirdly let down. It seems churlish (when there’s so much attention to detail elsewhere) that the hotel charges guests for an airport pick-up. It’s surprising that although we booked a ‘Garden Suite’, only a few rays of sunlight made it down to our private terrace. It’s a little indulgence-free for the breakfast menu to be designed with one eye on those who would be spending the day in a bikini, with multiple (admittedly delicious) variations on fruit and granola.

Our swishy-blonde-haired concierge Gina gets it very right, though, when she directs us to her favourite spots in Petitenget, the area of Bali known for its hipster boutiques and stylish brunch spots. We seek out hot-tip homeware shop Biasa and lingerie boutique Gooseberry.

On the morning we checked out, a member of staff tied a red, white and black string around our wrists, explaining that it was a Hindu ‘tridatu’ to remind the wearer that life is not just one colour, but many.

It was the perfect souvenir of our time in Bali. Well, that and all the reed diffusers, robes and blankets I stocked up on in the hotel’s gift shop. I guess I’ll have to go back with a bigger suitcase for that lamp…