The Warehouse

God’s own godown by the Singapore riverside.

Mr & Mrs Smith

The Warehouse Hotel in Singapore is to the hospitality industry what George Clooney is to his audience, a shining example of sex appeal, a cheeky sense of humour and intellect, rolled into one gloriously sophisticated package. And from the moment you walk into the double-volume reception and lobby bar, the hotel’s interiors prove as skilled as Clooney in the art of seduction. 

Despite its cavernous size, the industrial space imbues a warm, intimate ambiance. Softly lit pendant lights drip from the ceiling like diamond necklaces, as Lianne La Havas’ husky neo-soul croons from the speakers. The call to the bar is strong with this one but Mr Smith and I resist—first, we want to freshen up. 

Through a discreet door at the back of the bar, we are lead along a corridor to our ground floor River View Room. Its slick, pared back aesthetic seems to take inspiration from Japanese interiors—and examples are everywhere from its low-level king-size bed, draped in hand-printed textiles by local clothing brand Matter; to the wire glass doors, which separate the shower and toilet cubicles, and evoke traditional shoji screens. 

However, unlike many Japanese rooms, here they are a generous 34sqm, and come with two double doors that look straight out onto the Singapore River, and the footpath that runs alongside it. “These windows aren’t tinted,” says the concierge. “So just be aware of that.”

Those who feel exposed can draw the sheer or blackout curtains for privacy but it seems an incongruous oversight, given the otherwise thoughtful, moody interiors—not to mention the three-tiered “Minibar of Vices”, replete with a “Lust” section that includes His and Hers vibrators, and a BDSM paddle. Later, Mr Smith and I giggle about the concierge’s warning: was it motivated by couples caught in the act?

Maybe it’s just me but it’s almost like The Warehouse encourages exhibitionist or voyeuristic tendencies. While there’s no gym, the hotel’s rooftop infinity pool—which sits atop a purpose-built, three-storey platform next to a busy intersection—is glass walled. So drivers and pedestrians below have a clear view of your game of Marco Polo. But the tranquil view of the river soon erases all thoughts of the traffic below.

With just four sun loungers and two small bar tables, the compact pool encourages mingling with fellow guests. We chat to Brian from New York, who’s in Singapore for a stopover on his way to Vietnam, and end up having lunch together across the river at Italian restaurant Publico—one of the many bustling and varied riverside eateries within walking distance from the hotel.

Despite the countless excellent food options nearby, we end up dining in the hotel both nights during our stay. The lure of the lobby bar wins out on our first evening. While Mr Smith enjoys a crisp Chilean chardonnay, I sip on a Madame Butterfly cocktail—comprised of tequila, watermelon shrub, rosé and soda—a moreish concoction that tastes like a grown-up version of raspberry lemonade. 

One round quickly becomes two, this time with a selection of tasty Asian bar-snack plates, including Kurobuta char siew (barbecued pork), kueh pie tee (a canapé-size pastry filled with stewed pork, prawns and vegetables), and prawn crackers. But bar snacks rarely a meal make and, later, we end up ordering room service. 

The beef rendang, while eye-wateringly expensive (the menu states $52 but with Singapore’s ++, the total price is $61.20) is generously portioned, and so tender it’s melt-in-the-mouth good. While the room service menu doesn’t include desserts, at our request, a plate of goreng pisang (banana fritter) from the restaurant, Po, is delivered to our door—and acts as a tantalising preview for the dinner we have booked there the following night.

Decked out in an understated and contemporary interpretation of art deco cool, Po makes a charming choice for dinner for two. Softly lit with prompt, friendly waitstaff, it serves modern Singaporean fare, including popiah, a make-your-own-style spring roll, using thin wheat skins (pancakes), stewed pork and vegetable fillings, and toppings such as crushed peanuts and fresh coriander.

The ingredients are served in bamboo steamers, and a delightful little card on the table provides step-by-step instructions on how to fill and roll your popiah. It’s a lovely hands-on introduction to the local food scene, which carries through to dessert—a pulut hitam (a sweet, black sticky rice congee) and ice cream popiah served with pineapple, taro and peanut gelato.  

On the way back to our room, we are waylaid by one of the lobby bar’s butter-soft leather couches. Mr Smith is midway through a whisky sour, while I have opted for a more delicate take—a High Tea, made from chamomile whisky, Laphroaig mist, passionfruit, grenadine, mint and spiced bitters—when Brian from New York returns from a food tour. 

He lingers just long enough to share tales of the city’s hawker centres and satay skewers. “Have you guys left the hotel since lunch?” he asks pointedly. While there are undoubtedly plenty of great sights to see in Singapore—Gardens by the Bay and the National Gallery are two notables—if your hotel was a “Clooney", would you leave?

This hotel review originally appeared on Mr & Mrs Smith in 2019.