LIZ NICHOLLS enjoys a weekend in the lap of luxury in London.

WARNING: A stay at St Martin’s Lane will expose you to serious levels of spoiling.

And no matter how humble your everyday existence, it might just warp your reality.

Take our second night at the central London hotel. After slurping cocktails and feasting on Malay ‘street food’ at Sanderson, the sumptuous sister hotel a mere stone’s throw away, our high heels caused us to grumble and we were being carried – yes, CARRIED, into the hotel car by an immaculately dressed doorman.

What’s more, this seemed totally normal. Browsing the Aldi aisles for bargain veg later that week, I was struck by this graphic luxe-flashback.

To stay at St Martin’s Lane is to become part of a great in-joke.

Having a fag outside the classy glassy frontage, I was amazed how many passers-by stopped to peek up to the petticoat curtains pondering what was inside. With no signage (common, sweetie) you step through high-visibility yellow revolving doors into a flipside that’s part catwalk, part Cheshire cat grin. Knobbly golden tooth-chairs and giant chesspieces inch across the lobby. It makes you smile, which was the intention of Philippe Starck who designed this urban resort in 1999, inventing the ‘boutique hotel’ in the process.

Design is downplayed to the point of minimalism (think crisp, white sheets and bare walls) with colour-drenched zones – from purple haze in the funky Light Bar to mellow amber in the hallways. Dials at each bedside let you choose mood-lighting as the spectrum grabs you (and yes, being women, ours changed quite a lot).

The hotel is in the heart of dirty, decadent London. Turning each stay into a destination is a masterstroke of the hotel team, as proved by our morning art walk by Fox & Squirrel.

We were led through Soho to uncover Annie Morris’s There Is A Land Called Loss and Sex And Friends sculptures by Tobias Rehberger – exclusive truffles we would never have sniffed out without a tailor-made tour.

Asia de Cuba, the acclaimed fusion restaurant, has just changed its menu and we delved into dazzling ceviche happily married with flavours of horseradish, chilli, sesame and jalapeno; claypots of green seafood and Cuban-coffee-bean-crusted rib-eye. We also gorged on classics, including a lobster mash which could be prescribed on the NHS to relieve winter blues.

SML is where the hip and happening of all ages and walks of life come to play. The staff are beautiful. The boy who brought coconut cupcakes to my room on arrival was so gorgeous that I was lost for words. But it’s substance as well as style. I have never met so many people buzzing about their jobs. The dude serving breakfast had a smile that could have melted marble. And that’s not an exaggeration I swear. If Boris Johnson wants to make us the envy of the world this Olympics, he should book all the volunteers in for a weekend.

It’s a lesson in how to make visitors feel they’re truly worth it.

* St Martin’s Lane, 45 St Martin’s Lane, London, WC2N 4HX Tel: 020 7300 5500.

Rooms from £209 per room per night.

morganshotelgroup.com Sanderson, 50 Berners Street, London, W1T 3NG.

020 7300 1400