Closing in on Barclay St, Robert A.M. Stern’s soaring 84-floor classical riser set itself apart against the surrounding shrink-wrapped buildings. Two dapper doormen in their crinkle-free uniforms greeted us, opening up the incredibly tall brushed-bronze doors with elegant black steel detailing that nods to the Four Seasons logo. Immediately drowning the noises of early morning traffic, a strong waft of heavily perfumed air followed, bewildering us with the double-height lobby that cocooned us in rich old-world architecture.

A modern palace designed by Yabu Pushelberg, the finesse of layered architectural elements proved no expenses were spared. A complimentary mix of dark wooden panels with millwork details, marble-clad columns, brushed bronze accents and French woven metal-mesh lined the walls. Cream-coloured travertine floors were offset by the path-like carpet placement directing us to the reception area where a distractingly gorgeous, ethnically ambiguous male welcomed us with the warmest smile I've ever received. Damn - they sure knew how to make you feel special. Being a small-town journo in this decadent five-star establishment, I was overwhelmed by the faultless service and scarily impressed by how the entire staff knew our names - although, they did greet my clearly Caucasian boyfriend as “Mr. Chung,” making an ever so slightly emasculating, but hilarious story that I like to whip out on occasion.

The thorough design-work extended throughout the entire space from the lobby to the lift to the rooms, all working up the suspense of what our uber-deluxe home would be for the next two nights. Light-filled rooms of soft powdery hues and muted tones made for a restful and soothing vision that was homelier than our podunk flat in St Mary’s Bay. And of course, it wouldn’t be luxury accommodation without marble bathrooms, a deep-soak tub and mirrored wall atop a his-and-hers vanity.

Although I wasn’t staying at the Four Seasons Hotel New York Downtown with my self-earnt riches, I had to take consolation in the work perks and the lenient-enough vacay policies. Next time, I’d be here in the bougiest room of all - The Royal Suite. 223 square metres of the world’s most valuable real estate spanning the entire east side of the 24th floor with a blue onyx fireplace, an oak bar with Indian stone, media library and powder room to name a few of the features.

Following a terribly cramped cattle-class flight to NYC, a visit to the spa was, as privileged as I sound, mandatory. Two top-end European brands, Dr Burgener and Omorovicza, were used to custom-create an array of high tech treatments and beauty experiences - all worth a pretty penny. Featuring a light-coloured palette to create a fresh and tranquil design vocab, the seven treatment rooms, outdoor terrace, eucalyptus steam room and 23m indoor lap pool was an unreal space of sanctuary. Jet-lagged and exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep during my state-of-the-art facial; however, I felt elated and ready to take on what they call the new, New York.