The Places That Changed My Standards

When I was growing up, I didn’t travel much, and luxury wasn’t something I knew. For me, hotels were just places to sleep close to wherever you were going. I didn’t pay attention to things like lighting, service, or architecture; now I notice some of those details all the time. Back then, travel was simply about reaching a place, seeing what there was to see, and finding the best price.

Everything started to change in my mid-twenties.

Working as a junior music publicist in Beverly Hills, I started traveling with artists, executives, and clients whose standards were far beyond my own. For the first time, I found myself in undeniably expensive places where every detail had been carefully considered, and I began noticing things I'd never paid attention to before.

Looking back, those trips became my education in taste. It wasn’t so much about what you could afford as it was about what you could develop by paying attention.

These are the places I credit most.

In 2013, I planned a trip to Paris with my cousin and a few friends. We rented a charming Airbnb that, on paper, was exactly what we wanted: affordable, well located, and full of Parisian character.

Then I arrived.

The apartment had the charm that older places often do, but I realized I had already changed before I even arrived. A few weeks earlier, I found a great deal on a first-class flight through Kayak. While settling into my seat and reading Diane von Furstenberg’s The Woman I Wanted to Be, I felt myself giving even more weight to what I wanted than to what made the most financial sense.

One line from the book has stayed with me ever since:

“You know who’s going to give you everything? Yourself.”

So I did something I never would have done when I was younger: I booked a room at the Mandarin Oriental Paris and left the Airbnb behind.

I've stayed in incredible hotels since then, but I still think about that room. It changed what I started looking for.

The lighting made everything look great without being over the top. Every surface looked spotless, as if the room had been set up just for me that day. The linens were crisp, the scent was gentle, and every tray that came to my door seemed to have been checked one last time to make sure it was perfect.

One evening, after a brief and very casual conversation with someone on the hotel staff, I returned to my room. A little while later, there was a knock at the door.

I still think about that knock.

On the other side were fries, beautiful French cheeses, champagne, and a handful of small comforts I had never asked for. I was stunned. It wasn’t room service. It felt like love. Maybe even romance. I still can’t quite explain what they created in that moment.

I thought I understood luxury before I walked into the Krug Lounge. Venice showed me I was really just appreciating the product, not the experience.

The Krug Lounge taught me that luxury is rarely about one extraordinary thing. It’s about how every element works together. Philippe Starck’s design, the Joseph glass, custom-designed with Riedel, the champagne, the food, the service—nothing competed for attention. Every choice elevated the next.

I left thinking less about what I’d tasted and more about how I’d felt, and I keep coming back to this lesson: the most luxurious experiences don’t try to prove how special they are.

I'd had massages before. NIZUC was the first place that understood that the hour before the massage mattered just as much, if not more.

Before your treatment starts, you go through a hydrotherapy ritual. You move from steam to a cold plunge, then from the sauna to the ice room, and from the vitality pool to the heated loungers. Each step prepares you for the next until, almost without noticing, your body lets go before the massage even begins.

What I often think about is how much the ritual amplified the massage. By slowing me down first, the treatment landed more completely.

I can’t end this without mentioning two Rosewood properties I love.

Rosewood London taught me that arrival is part of the experience. Before anyone greets you, the architecture has already done the work. The grand entrance creates a sense of anticipation that never lets up.

Rosewood Mayakoba expanded my idea of what a resort could be. There is something almost cinematic about being driven to your room by boat. By the time you step onto your terrace, you’ve already left ordinary life behind. The overwater lagoon suites are breathtaking, and they’ve mastered complete privacy, complete stillness, and the sense that someone designed every moment to help you slow down.

Let me know if you’ve visited any of these! The book is an affiliate link.

— Myleik

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