Having my suitcase unpacked was just the start.

Having my suitcase unpacked was just the start, writes Anabel Dean.
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It is easy to emulate the opulence of a glorious past in Istanbul. The mighty Turkish city has a long history of lavish living with a succession of Ottoman sultans and Byzantine emperors so I am not surprised to find liveried doormen lining the marbled entrance of Vakko Hotel & Residence.
"Allow me, madam," says Samil Sahin, white gloves whisking away suitcases. Samil is the sort of man who can whip up an Espresso Martini blindfolded while calculating the precise amount of time it takes to sail across the Bosphorus Strait. He is my butler.
"Ask me for an elephant and I will ask you what colour," he chirrups, steering towards a plush ivory lounge in the foyer. "Coffee?" he suggests, and it arrives with chocolates on a tray. Tar-black granules are swirling at the bottom of my tiny cup when he materialises again. "Your room?" he offers, ushering me down dark club-lit corridors to a door that opens into a 1950s-inspired cream-toned suite with a black marble kitchen and a sumptuous bedroom adjoining a terrace.

That's when I know I am delegating all of life's necessities to an assistant who doesn't look at all like Carson in Downton Abbey. Samil is the symbol of modernity as a fresh-faced lifestyle manager in Turkey's first fashion-branded hotel. He will not stay below stairs polishing silver but he will be carrying a tray with dried figs and champagne flutes while planning my itinerary in the cosmopolitan designer district of Nisantasi.
For guests who don't select the private "Chef Chez Vous" service in their suite, there is a French-inspired Vakko L'Atelier bistro downstairs. I am alerted to the menu of marble stone massages and Ayurvedic healing in the spa but these are luxuries that fade into insignificance with the ultimate enticement: Samil will now unpack my suitcase.
I would change the habits of a lifetime for this service that unzips a scrumpling of T-shirts and smalls that have seen better days. "I might have to unpack my own unmentionables," I hesitate. Samil is mute. What the butler sees, is unseen, as he lifts my shambolic no-names onto the bed like new-born kittens. Layers are folded into squares, dresses colour-coded on hangers, socks tucked into pretty rows; a signature artwork of such ephemeral beauty emerges in my wardrobe.

At this point, it seems almost churlish not to adopt the Vakko way of life, taking full advantage of the in-room personal shopping service. Next morning, exquisite Gunay Kalmaz wafts into my room in a cloud of scented jasmine, and behind her, a rack of new clothes summoned from the Vakko luxury fashion and lifestyle store beneath the hotel. Gunay is bird-like in physique but powerfully efficient in crafting an emporium of extreme splendour. "Let me help," she says, lifting size-perfect contemporary outfits over my head. Buttoning, adjusting, enhancing. This heel? That belt? Prosecco? Pistachio? The figure in the mirror is magnificent. It is me reimagined as race-horse owner, board member, gallerist, party girl, poet and, yes, princess.
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Gunay has tended to the word's elite like this for the past 17 years - fashionistas can take three hours to decide upon accoutrements - so her abridged wisdom is welcome. "Not too much young," she says. "Modern elegance," she approves. "Lifesaver," she affirms.
"I'll take the lot," I respond, heady with excitement. Then reality sets in. The thing that makes me a journalist, makes me ask the price, and the cost of this stylish fusion comes to about $23,000. Better to choose just one outfit, the diaphanous one with cut-out waist perhaps, the one that costs as much as a return airfare from Sydney to Istanbul? Gunay glides out of my room with her rack restacked. Samil closes the door noiselessly behind her. "Do you think you could pack her into my suitcase?" I ask.

Vakko Hotel achieves something that luxury hotels aspire to attain. Samil meets every challenge, so long as it's legal, "at the drop of a hat". Hats are important here because the business started in 1934 as a small millinery shop that transformed over decades into a cultural juggernaut with footholds in retail, media and entertainment, arts and culture, and now this first venture into hospitality with 31 residential suites in the district dubbed as "Little Paris".
I cannot spend my entire visit to Istanbul in this hotel. Or can I? I don't want to miss out on the uniqueness of a city that straddles two continents - Europe and Asia - and there is much to explore in the old city with the glittering gold mosaics of Hagia Sophia and the cascading domes of the Blue Mosque; the cavernous depths of the Basilica Cistern and the mysterious harem of the Topkapi Palace; not to mention the spice bazaars.

The Bosphorus waterway is about 20 minutes walk away. The Asian side of Istanbul, with its Ottoman palaces and waterfront mansions, are a wonder to behold from the deck of a boat gliding down the Bosphorus, but it is my last moments with Samil that lingers in memory. He stands beside my suitcase as I turn to leave. "I have this for you," he says, sweeping a mystifyingly fluffy blob of joy from behind his back. "It's an elephant," he laughs. "Not so easy to find in Istanbul."
The words of PG Wodehouse immediately come to mind. "Samil," I say, and I'm not ashamed to admit a spot of chokiness in my voice. "There is none like you. None."
Getting there: Airlines including Emirates and Thai Airways have one-stop flights from Sydney and Melbourne to Istanbul.
Staying there: Rates in a Premiere Suite at Vakko Hotel & Residence start from 750 euros ($1240) and include butler and wardrobe service. vakkohotel.com
Explore more: goturkiye.com
The writer was a guest of Vakko Hotel & Residence.




