Shanghai Jianyeli Capella Hotel — Hotel in Shanghai

People, it is with a heavy heart that I feel compelled to speak candidly about my recent observations of the Capella Shanghai. You see, after living in hotels for the better part of 25 years—having called some of the world’s most storied establishments my home, including a year at the illustrious Crillon in Paris—I have come to understand what it truly means to craft an experience worthy of its guests. Luxury, real luxury, is not merely a grand edifice or a dazzling concept. It is the profound art of making every guest feel cherished, seen, and understood, and in this respect, I regret to say the Capella Shanghai falls grievously short.||It is not without a touch of sorrow that I recount my experience, for the Capella promises much and aspires to even more. Its design is undoubtedly a feast for the eyes—a vertical spectacle that speaks of ambition and architectural mastery. And yet, as one ascends and descends its many levels, one cannot help but feel a certain impracticality, as though the guest’s comfort was an afterthought in the grand design. This is no small thing, for when a guest arrives at what they believe to be a sanctuary of refinement, they do not wish to navigate inconvenience disguised as sophistication. They wish, simply, to feel at home.||But where my heart truly aches is in recounting the dining experience—a space that should be the soul of any great hotel. At the Capella, this soul seems to have been replaced by a rigid concept, a clinging to past glories, and an unwillingness to embrace the profound shift in how we live, eat, and nourish ourselves in this modern era. The chef’s refusal to accommodate dietary preferences such as ketogenic options is not merely a failure of flexibility but, I fear, a refusal to listen. This is not about one particular diet or trend—it is about acknowledging that we live in a world where wellness, mindfulness, and individual needs have become paramount.||At the Crillon, one could enjoy the finest pâté en croûte alongside a carefully prepared, health-conscious dish that celebrated the joys of modern living. There was no conflict, no contradiction, for they understood that true hospitality does not impose but rather adapts, listens, and anticipates. It is not enough to create a culinary masterpiece if it alienates the very people it seeks to serve. To cling to the notion that ‘the chef knows best’ in this day and age is to bury one’s head in the sands of time, and time, as we know, waits for no one.||The Capella’s insistence on prioritizing concept over care, tradition over evolution, and ego over empathy reveals a profound misunderstanding of what luxury must be in this era. This is not the 1980s or 1990s when indulgence was measured in calories and decadence alone. We have moved into a time when people seek not just flavor but wellness, balance, and harmony—when they wish to be cared for, body and soul. To offer anything less is to betray the very essence of hospitality.||What saddens me most is that the Capella Shanghai has the potential to be a sanctuary, a place where the beauty of its design could harmonize with the warmth of its service and the adaptability of its offerings. But it is not enough to create a beautiful façade, to build an ocean of ambition while forgetting the lifeblood of that ocean: the guest’s satisfaction, their comfort, their joy.||True luxury, as I have seen it and lived it, is not found in Michelin stars or lofty design but in the quiet attentiveness of a staff that truly cares, in the small moments where a guest feels understood without ever having to ask. It is found in an establishment’s willingness to evolve with the times, to marry elegance with relevance, and to embrace the modern rhythms of life without ever compromising its timeless grace.||And so I must say, to the Capella Shanghai: your intentions are noble, but your execution falters. You have built a beautiful property but you have forgotten the heart And without the heart, an empty shell. Luxury, true luxury, is not about what you wish to impose upon your guests, but about what you are willing to do for them. Until you remember this, you will remain a monument to potential unrealized, and that, is the greatest...

People, it is with a heavy heart that I feel compelled to speak candidly about my recent observations of the Capella Shanghai. You see, after living in hotels for the better part of 25 years—having called some of the world’s most storied establishments my home, including a year at the illustrious Crillon in Paris—I have come to understand what it truly means to craft an experience worthy of its guests. Luxury, real luxury, is not merely a grand edifice or a dazzling concept. It is the profound art of making every guest feel cherished, seen, and understood, and in this respect, I regret to say the Capella Shanghai falls grievously short.||It is not without a touch of sorrow that I recount my experience, for the Capella promises much and aspires to even more. Its design is undoubtedly a feast for the eyes—a vertical spectacle that speaks of ambition and architectural mastery. And yet, as one ascends and descends its many levels, one cannot help but feel a certain impracticality, as though the guest’s comfort was an afterthought in the grand design. This is no small thing, for when a guest arrives at what they believe to be a sanctuary of refinement, they do not wish to navigate inconvenience disguised as sophistication. They wish, simply, to feel at home.||But where my heart truly aches is in recounting the dining experience—a space that should be the soul of any great hotel. At the Capella, this soul seems to have been replaced by a rigid concept, a clinging to past glories, and an unwillingness to embrace the profound shift in how we live, eat, and nourish ourselves in this modern era. The chef’s refusal to accommodate dietary preferences such as ketogenic options is not merely a failure of flexibility but, I fear, a refusal to listen. This is not about one particular diet or trend—it is about acknowledging that we live in a world where wellness, mindfulness, and individual needs have become paramount.||At the Crillon, one could enjoy the finest pâté en croûte alongside a carefully prepared, health-conscious dish that celebrated the joys of modern living. There was no conflict, no contradiction, for they understood that true hospitality does not impose but rather adapts, listens, and anticipates. It is not enough to create a culinary masterpiece if it alienates the very people it seeks to serve. To cling to the notion that ‘the chef knows best’ in this day and age is to bury one’s head in the sands of time, and time, as we know, waits for no one.||The Capella’s insistence on prioritizing concept over care, tradition over evolution, and ego over empathy reveals a profound misunderstanding of what luxury must be in this era. This is not the 1980s or 1990s when indulgence was measured in calories and decadence alone. We have moved into a time when people seek not just flavor but wellness, balance, and harmony—when they wish to be cared for, body and soul. To offer anything less is to betray the very essence of hospitality.||What saddens me most is that the Capella Shanghai has the potential to be a sanctuary, a place where the beauty of its design could harmonize with the warmth of its service and the adaptability of its offerings. But it is not enough to create a beautiful façade, to build an ocean of ambition while forgetting the lifeblood of that ocean: the guest’s satisfaction, their comfort, their joy.||True luxury, as I have seen it and lived it, is not found in Michelin stars or lofty design but in the quiet attentiveness of a staff that truly cares, in the small moments where a guest feels understood without ever having to ask. It is found in an establishment’s willingness to evolve with the times, to marry elegance with relevance, and to embrace the modern rhythms of life without ever compromising its timeless grace.||And so I must say, to the Capella Shanghai: your intentions are noble, but your execution falters. You have built a beautiful property but you have forgotten the heart And without the heart, an empty shell. Luxury, true luxury, is not about what you wish to impose upon your guests, but about what you are willing to do for them. Until you remember this, you will remain a monument to potential unrealized, and that, is the greatest...

Our stay last May was heavenly - it was what started our luxury hotel journey as the service we received was out of this world. From the porters who would run towards me after noticing me without an umbrella, to our housekeeping lady who took note of our minibar consumption patterns and gave more of our favourite drinks, to the breakfast receptionist who would take the stairs just so that she can wait for us again on the 2nd floor after receiving us on the ground floor, every single staff member went out of their way to pamper us. ||Since then we were on a quest to see whether there's any hotel out there that could top this, that is until we returned for the second time in May and realized a significant drop in service quality. While Capella Shanghai will continue to be one of my favorite hotels in the world, I would probably not make it a mission to stay here in the future. ||Our stay started on a strong note, after I emailed the reservations team to enquire the name of the housekeeping lady whom we met last year so we could bring a little gift for her. The Culturist, Amber, went out of her way and dug through old records to find the names of the housekeeping ladies and arranged for them to serve us again. ||The rest of the stay was just as magical, that is until lapses in service started to happen. There were a lot of new faces this time round, and it was rather evident that they did not possess the mentality of the staff whom we met last year. For example, we gave a box of cookies from Hong Kong to the front desk lady to be shared with the team. A few days later when we met her again, she did not seem to remember us and made no comments about the cookie. I did not want to sound like I was fishing for compliments so I did not ask her either, but it made us feel like our efforts were not appreciated. Similar things happened when I was checking out. I had to leave early for work and my partner checked out and left our luggage with the concierge. When I returned to retrieve the luggage after work, the front desk manager did not seem to recognize me as a hotel guest and did not ask about my stay. The concierge, after retrieving our luggage, also did not offer to help bring it outside. The porter was also just standing there after clearly noticing me with a big suitcase. Eventually the Didi driver helped to load it up. ||There were some highlights though, like the lovely breakfast ladies who insisted on feeding us and kept coming back with more goodies, and the kind housekeeping ladies, who upon receiving our gift, left a note for us and two plush toys. However, the main thing that set Capella apart from the other luxury hotels that we've stayed at was the flawless, textbook service execution. I know people say this all the time, but it truly felt like we were staying at a home away from home. Every single need that we could even possibly have, Capella anticipated it, which made this stay all the more disappointing. ||The funny thing was, I posted my thoughts on two separate social media platforms, and Capella read them both, but no service recovery or follow-up was made. They did not even apologize or at least acknowledge these service lapses. Granted the language I used was not as harsh as this review, but it nevertheless proved my point, that they simply just didn't care as...