The Fountain Parlor Suite at Wynn Palace
An Extra Layer of Luxury
To call Wynn Palace over-the-top would still be an understatement. Steve Wynn's latest addition to Macau takes everything expected from a Wynn property—fanciful public spaces of exquisite detail, extravagant floral displays and art—to an absurdly superfluous level. My short cab ride from the Taipa Ferry Terminal rounded its final corner and presented a surreal moment. After literally years of anticipation, wonder, and now nearly 23 hours of travel, the hotel finally revealed itself. Touted as Steve Wynn's grandest (and also once rumored final) project, the sight of Wynn Palace instantly rejuvenated me.
The massive scale of the Cotai Strip means that each hotel lights its own halo in the seemingly ever-present fog of Macau. Wynn Palace's halo glows the brightest. As we turned into the north entrance, I couldn't help but notice the sheer wattage. The building, its fountains, the driveways, and even the plants are lit so bright, you'd swear the bulbs are going to burst at any moment.
I'm received immediately at the porte cochère and bags are taken without asking. A greeter walks me to the front desk with bellhop and luggage following closely behind.
Wynn has always seemed to design hotels without account for budget, but at Palace, it's as though he found whatever remnants of vanilla and heightened it with an extra layer of luxury. This hotel has a theme—a palace—and this theme is accomplished with these extravagant touches everywhere. The bellhops' and greeters' uniforms, for example, look like men's couture from Alexander McQueen; there's piping, lining, epaulets, and aiguillettes, and I'm damn near convinced they once had Roger Thomas tassels hanging off of them but probably nixed those because they interfered with productivity.
My room, a Fountain Parlor Suite, allowed me the privilege to check-in using the VIP lounge. It's quite possibly the most colorful Roger Thomas space I've ever been in.
The door looking back out to the North Lobby and Preston Bailey's rotating flower sculpture. The counter on the left provides water and light snacks throughout the day. I could never quite wrap my head around emergency signage in Hong Kong and Macau and would interpret the sign above the door as a warning that a bottomless pit exists on the other side.
I'm given my keys. They're presented in a drawstring velvet pouch—an extra layer of luxury. Having the name of the hotel on them in Chinese was a godsend as neither "Wynn Palace" nor my poorly-inflected butchering of its Chinese name (more or less, "Wing Lei Huong Goung") registered with a single cab driver.