There are countless ways to define the experience of visiting Tokyo—but perhaps more than anything, it’s a city of layers. There’s the subterranean hum of its subway lines, through which millions of commuters are funneled each day; the hushed, gravel-pathed sanctuaries of its Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines, where tourists mingle with monks clad in orange or white robes; and the neon-lit cacophony of its shopping districts, where designer vintage hunters seek priceless fashion treasures. But the most rarefied layer of them all? The city’s luxury hotels, which you’ll typically find spread across the mid-level floors of its skyscrapers.
You know the kind of hotel I mean: a lobby of floor-to-ceiling glass windows, an ear-popping journey upwards in a super-fast elevator, bedrooms tastefully decorated in neutral tones with low lighting and hinoki wood galore. (Ideally, the latter will feature a window with a ledge perfectly situated for sitting and gazing wistfully out—and imagining you’re Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation.) Essentially, hotels that offer quiet luxury, before the term quiet luxury was rendered meaningless.
And sure, the Bvlgari Hotel Tokyo offers all that: the property, which opened in 2023, is perched within the 40th to 45th floors of the Midtown Yaesu skyscraper, directly above the bowels of Tokyo’s central station and all its frantic energy. But it also offers something altogether different. In place of the classic design tropes of your typical five-star Tokyo stays, the Bvlgari introduces a different flavor, folding Italian glitz and glamour into that typically Japanese spirit of precision and simplicity—all to seriously impressive ends.
It all begins (as hotel stays tend to do) when you arrive. There are no flashy signs or sweeping driveways. Instead, if you’re arriving by car, you’ll be ushered under the building and into what the hotel staff refer to as a kekai, a Japanese term for a threshold between the world we know and a different or more sacred reality. From there, you’ll be whizzed up in a sleek elevator to the 40th floor—and it’s at that point you begin notice the hotel does things a little differently.
Designed by the Milanese masters Antonio Citterio and Patricia Viel, the first thing that strikes you isn’t the grandeur of it all—though it certainly is grand—but the small and almost unassuming details. The floors are laid with shiny black granite with Bvlgari’s signature eight-pointed star inlaid at the center, crafted from travertine stone as a direct nod to the piazzas of Rome, while the walls are wrapped in a pattern inspired both by a traditional Japanese “peacock tail” design and a motif found in the ancient Baths of Caracalla that has previously inspired a number of Bvlgari jewelry designs. If you can take your eyes away from the glittering jewels displayed in softly-lit recesses—including the Italian house’s famous Mount Fuji brooch from the 1970s—you can spot the lush greenery of the Imperial Palace gardens far below. On a clear day, you can even glimpse the peak of Mount Fuji itself in the distant horizon.
When I arrived at the hotel fresh off a long-haul flight, however, there was only one thing on my mind: lunch. To answer my call, I was immediately swept off the main lobby and into Hōseki, the hotel’s flagship sushi restaurant: just eight seats around a counter carved from a single piece of hinoki, where Chef Kenji Gyoten slices and dices (and, of course, serves) the freshest fish sourced from the Tsukiji outer market that morning. If you didn’t already know you were on the 40th floor of a skyscraper, you certainly wouldn’t have guessed: taking our seats under the serene glow of the traditional, hand-crafted pendant lamps, the enormous window at the end of the counter looks out onto a miniature zen garden, with a red pine tree emerging from a sea of pebbles and moss against a wall of bamboo.
Our focus, however, remained firmly fixed on the theatrically presented flight of dishes that followed: thick belts of marinated lean tuna, surf clam, Japanese sardines, and a seemingly endless succession of underwater delicacies, flipped onto plump pillows of perfectly seasoned rice, then cradled and gently shaped by the sushi master before being placed on the wabi-sabi china plates in front of us to be eaten in one bite. It’s the kind of world-class sushi experience people travel to Tokyo from all across the globe to experience—and here, you can enjoy it without even leaving your hotel. At the end of our meal, it was mentioned that Hōseki is, in fact, the Japanese word for jewels. How fitting.
Now very much sated, it was time to retreat to my bedroom—which, like everything else about the hotel, perfectly balanced the rigor of classic Japanese design with a touch of Roman razzle-dazzle. After heading a few floors higher in the elevator, and breezing through the elm wood-paneled corridors adorned with vintage black-and-white photographs of Italian icons like Monica Vitti and Virna Lisi, I was ushered into a deluxe room that was another astral plane of tranquility, and that continued that well-executed East-meet-West theme.
Elegant dark-stained oak side tables by the Fukuoka-based furniture makers Ritzwell sat next to plush, midcentury-inspired Maxalto chairs artfully placed atop the room’s saffron-colored rugs, while the crisp, freshly pressed linens on the bed were topped with a shimmering, patterned throw by Hosoo, the historic Kyoto-based kimono textile house. (Bonus points for the spacious bathrooms, too, with an enormous black granite tub lavishly stocked with Bulgari toiletries for a long and well-earned soak after a morning spent scavenging for bargains in the vintage designer stores of Ginza.)
What truly sets the Bvlgari Hotel Tokyo apart from its peers is its refusal to be understated: it is gilded, it is bold, and it is unashamedly glamorous. And nowhere is that more evident than the rooftop bar, where the hotel’s bubbling-under-the-surface spirit of Italian opulence erupts and reigns supreme. (Think: an oval-shaped bar counter inspired by the fountain at the foot of the Spanish Steps, floors lavished in Venetian-inspired colored marble terrazzo, and a dazzling floor-to-ceiling glass mosaic across the back wall by Bisazza that’s depicting creeping, vein-like strands of trees with birds fluttering in the leafy canopies.)
On my final day at the Bvlgari Hotel Tokyo, I took the late afternoon to explore the surprisingly extensive outdoor, Mediterranean-inspired gardens, where well-to-do Tokyoites sipped shochu-infused sours and vodka and saffron Serpenti cocktails after knocking off early from work, reveling in the opulence. As the evening drew on—the skyscraper lights beginning to twinkle in the foreground, and Mount Fuji receding into a purplish silhouette—it was like being in your own private, panoramic turret above the city.
There is plenty of peace to be found here, too—most notably in the spa complex, which features all of the saunas, steam rooms, and onsen baths you might expect, along with a knockout 25-meter pool lined with green Venetian glass mosaics. As I gently paddled my way across it while glancing to take in the view, I felt like I was swimming in a sparkling bath of Bvlgari emeralds. Turns out the Bvglari Hotel Tokyo has (nearly) as many layers to it as the city itself.