Biggest room in Beijing | Bvlgari Hotel — waking up to autumn wind along the Liangma River 🍂
I put off Bvlgari Beijing for a long time.
Not because I wasn't interested. Because I didn't want to run out of things to look forward to.
📍 First, the location. It's tucked along the Liangma River, right by the embassy district. No Guomao chaos. No Wangfujing crowds. Just a quiet tree-lined road outside the gate, two rows of ginkgo trees that turn everything gold in autumn. Classic Bvlgari logic — never in the loudest spot, but wherever it lands, the center quietly shifts toward it.
🏛️ The design is by Antonio Citterio. He also did Bvlgari Shanghai. But Beijing feels heavier, more grounded. The lobby doesn't soar — it draws inward. Dark marble, bronze screens, hand-woven carpets. This isn't luxury that towers over you. It's luxury that wraps around you like a perfectly cut dark suit. Doesn't shout. Every stitch lands.
🛏️ The rooms reward anyone who pays attention. The headboard features hand-embroidered Bvlgari motifs — not printed, not stamped, stitched by hand. The mini-bar hides two limited-edition Bvlgari beers in Serpenti-printed glass bottles. Opening one feels less like drinking, more like unpacking jewelry. The bathroom is clad in Carrara marble from Italy — white stone veined with pale grey, warm under bare feet, almost impossibly smooth.
🌳 What surprised me most was the view. Most luxury hotels in Beijing give you the CBD skyline or the Forbidden City rooftops. Bvlgari gave me a quiet stretch of green — the Liangma River drifting past, willow branches brushing the water, ginkgo leaves turning amber in the autumn light. Sitting by the window with tea, watching gold leaves float downstream, I thought: Beijing can be so gentle.
🍝 Il Ristorante holds one Michelin star. The chef is Roman, and he has that very Italian kind of intensity. He'll talk to you for half an hour about the flour origin, the egg variety, the exact millimeter of pasta thickness. Breakfast is served here too — semi-buffet with à la carte. Parma ham and burrata on demand, warm focaccia just out of the oven. Sin starts at 8am.
🏊 The pool is underground, but nothing about it feels closed in. The entire space is covered in gold mosaic tiles. Under the lights, swimming feels like floating through liquid gold. Next to it, a vitality pool runs a few degrees warmer. After a swim, I sat there watching the water ripple the gold into fragments. Lost track of time.
🧴 Amenities are Bvlgari's white tea collection — subtle, restrained, never cloying. Turndown gifts vary each night: sometimes a lip balm, sometimes a sleep mist, once a tiny white tea candle. At checkout, two canvas luggage tags stamped with BVLGARI. No flashy design. Just simple, and somehow completely collectible.
It rained lightly the morning I left. The car pulled through the gates, and I turned back once. There it stood, quiet along the Liangma River. Unassuming. Discreet. Like a well-kept secret in the middle of Beijing.
Bvlgari collection +1 🫶
Bali. Shanghai. Beijing.
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