The service is exquisite. Just before the breakfast buffet closes, a server will stop by your table to see if you’d like to revisit it first.
I never saw a housekeeper, yet my room was always more comfortable every time I returned to it. After checking in with the front desk, or dropping off and picking up the oversized room key with the concierge before and after a night on the town, the staff will know you by name.
It’s the sort of fairytale place where your wish is their command. They’ll tell you they’re sad to see you leave on the day you depart, and you will genuinely believe it.
While zipping across the Grand Canal in the Cipriani’s motorboat, I noticed a small no-smoking sign posted in the back of the cabin. And I realized that the only thing you can’t do at the Cipriani is smoke on the boat.
On that ride, I also thought of one potential improvement, although it would only be suggested by jealous boyfriends: that the boat captains be less handsome.