The world’s most iconic train is revamped
The Venice Simplon-Orient-Express has a series of glorious new suites – complete with bathrooms.
In the world of rail travel few locomotives possess the allure of the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express. “I’m not sure whether it’s the James Bond links, or Agatha Christie, or Hitchcock, but people love it,” says the train’s dapper manager Massimo Paganello, adjusting the fuchsia pocket square in his Italian suit. “They like making new friends. They like fine food. They like the glamour.”
In 2018, Belmond nudged the train’s status even higher by tasking craftsmen to transform historic carriages into six “grand suites” (with equally grand price tags starting at £6,000 a night for an ensuite). In the past northern hemisphere summer it launched an additional eight, more petite suites (with a slightly more petite price tag), which I was fortunate to try.
Hopping aboard the train – which for the first time this winter will whisk skiers to St Moritz – I felt as if I was stepping into a different era. Each of the 18 carriages, dating from the 1920s, with their navy and cream paintwork and polished brass finishes, was made when Art Deco lights were hand-blown by Lalique, blinds were woven from silk and wooden panelling was adorned with delicate marquetry.
The new suites are as glamorous as the originals, but more comfortable. Within the wood-panelled rooms – mine with pretty mother-of-pearl floral marquetry and botanical-weave carpets – there are sockets for phone chargers and Dyson hairdryers, and buttons to summon butlers. A handsome wooden table magically appears from a wardrobe for tea and breakfast, and squishy armchairs turn into comfy twin or double beds. In the ensuite there is not only a lavatory (a real treat given that passengers travelling in the original carriages share one between eight cabins), but a hand-blown glass basin and a mosaic-floored power-shower.
After my relaxing 24-hour trip from Venice to Paris, I understood why Queen Elizabeth II had her own private train. I was whisked by boat from the pool at the Hotel Cipriani to a calm Venetian railway platform attended by blue-suited butlers who took my luggage. At cocktail hour, showered and sparkling in my cocktail dress (“You can never dress up too much on the Orient Express,” Paganello says), I sipped Negronis at the polished brass bar as a pianist tinkled show-tunes.
In the dining car, I feasted on cuisine devised by the Plaza Athénée wonder chef Jean Imbert (rabbit terrine, turbot with fennel and Champagne sauce, tiramisù and wild strawberries). And finally, I slipped away to lie between my crisp, white, Italian sheets and watch moonlit mountains flash by as the rocking carriage swayed me to sleep. In that dreamy moving jewel box of my own, I felt as though I lived a Bloomsbury-esque life. belmond.com
THE TIMES