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I’m always fascinated by historical geography. It studies the terrestrial patterns of the past, how landscapes have changed over time, and how past events shape present and future topologies. Considered as one of the premier success stories of historical geography, Singapore leverages its strategic position in the Strait of Malacca and artificial expansion through reclamation.
You can count on Hong Kong as another premier example. What started as a rural fishing community, it went through a dash of colonialism; had a healthy helping of mass immigration from China; added a sprinkle of forethought for becoming a trade conduit with China, before becoming a global financial metropolis.
Even with 1,114km2of land, only 25 per cent of the space is allocated to housing Hong Kong’s 7.5 million populace. Holding fourth place for having the most densely populated region in the world, the uncaring, mountainous terrain and lack of infrastructure yielded some inventive urban planning.
Imagine time stretched out before you like a thick cable, and then, you push the ends together. In this compression, the past presses up against the present, like rush hour on the subway. Where, in your line of vision, a tower of glass and metal can be next to a sun-bleached tenement. The concentration of infrastructure leads to vertical building and living. Old Hong Kong stubbornly remains beneath the clusters of LED billboards and luxury storefronts. It is a layer cake, where a tier is placed over another; modernity coats the bones of the past.
By Victoria Harbour, the first Kimpton in Hong Kong—and the largest in the world—opens. This 495-room property also shares the space with The Mariners, a club originally meant as a refuge for arriving sailors; Kimpton occupies floors 11 through 50, while the rest belongs to The Mariners.
Its design codes pay homage to its surroundings: the V-shaped architecture hearkens to ship sails; the brick-tiled walls in the lobby reference the facade of the nearby century-old Signal Tower; a feature wall that’s inspired by the city’s historic typhoon signals; metallic ceilings that shimmer like harbour waves; mirrored lift interiors evoke the night skies once navigated by sailors. Even the colours and materials of the cushion fabrics and the soft green wallpaper behind the headboard of the room echo Signal Hill Garden. It’s a design wink. You don’t immediately clock it but you’ll feel it.
Even less well-known, is that in March 2023, during construction of the hotel, a four-alarm fire engulfed the structure. It lit up like a Roman candle; the fire could be seen from miles. It took nine hours before the flames were put out.
(It makes for a good story, but we suppose that multiple retellings of it can get exasperating. So much so, that the bright hue of that narrative is excised from the press release given to us.)
It is quiet in the room. Given the V-shaped structure, all rooms have an uninterrupted view of the harbour. It’s a far better display than the TV. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, one can see ferries cut through the water with mechanical rhythm. When the weather proves kind, you can see joggers bound along the boardwalk. At night, neon shimmers in the reflection of the waters.
When the novelty of the outside world fades, look within: there you can see warm woods and rattan textures; soft curves temper stern contemporary lines. Small details litter the room: a Japanese Lemnos clock sit beside Tivoli speakers; Elephant Grounds coffee pods are offered next to Nespresso ones; the bathroom smells faintly of NONFICTION bath products.
Oh, and there’s a bathtub. In the centre of the room.
(More like the tub is situated next to the bathroom, but who are we to forgo a little embellishment?)
Elsewhere, art peppers the property. Works by Hong Kong artist Angel Hui transform ordinary plastic bags into embroidered cultural relics, while Katrina Leigh Mendoza Raimann’s tactile threadwork channels the Signal Hill’s flora.
When the eyes are whetted by the visuals, the stomach heeds the call at Kimpton Hong Kong’s five restaurants.
At Birdsong, mornings start with coffee and pastries. If you return later, Kimpton Hong Kong’s Social Hour softens the mood with wine and small plates. Social Hour is meant for guests to get to know one another.
One can have dinner at Hillside, that’s overseen by executive chef Logan Thomas Hester. The familiar tastes of Hong Kong are reworked without becoming self-important. We had dinner at Chef Vicky Lau’s JIJA, a Chinese restaurant that specialises in Yunnan and Guizhou-inspired dishes.
Tipples were had at Swim Club, the rooftop bar, with a breathtaking view of Hong Kong at night. If you want somewhere a little private, there’s High Dive, a speakeasy that seats eight people and is only accessible via a vending machine (oh, you just had to be there).
The bar at Birdsong (left) I swear, the vending machine at Swim Club opens up! (right)
If you’re like me, trying to protect whatever semblance of youth you have left by swimming laps or lifting weights, there’s always Kimpton Hong Kong’s rooftop pool and the gym, respectively. We suggest a run outside, especially along the boardwalk. The wind runs through your hair and each inhale of breath is tinged with the salt tang of the ocean.
In the dark that’s illuminated by the moon’s soft glow and the city’s piercing neon, you see the collision of old and new uncoil and spread out; as far as your eye can see, all the restless movement, the pulse of humanity beneath the glamour.
Kimpton Tsim Sha Tsui Hong Kongis located at 11 Middle Rd, Tsim Sha Tsui, Hong Kong
This article was first seen onEsquire Singapore.
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