Words by James Louie
November 21, 2023

The lead designer for the new-look Regent Hong Kong reveals the ideas behind some of the hotel’s finer details, and reflects on the meandering journey he took to complete his biggest project.

Inside the living room of Regent Hong Kong’s duplex-style Presidential suite. — Inside the living room of Regent Hong Kong’s Presidential suite.

Gazing out across the water from the upstairs bedroom in the Presidential suite at Regent Hong Kong, veteran designer Chi Wing Lo gestures toward Hong Kong Island, its glass-and-steel towers standing tall against a muted mountain backdrop on a gloomy November day. “When I left Hong Kong 40 years ago, around the same time the Regent first opened, almost none of these buildings were here. The tallest was Connaught Center with 52 floors—the one with the round windows over there.” He points at present-day Jardine House, now a good half-kilometer behind the Central harborfront. “And the water came up to that short building in front of it. The ferry took a bit longer then.”

It’s the morning after the grand opening of the overhauled hotel, which has resumed its role as the Regent brand’s flagship property following a two-decade spell as an InterContinental. The previous night, I caught my first glimpse of Lo from across the ballroom as he stood on stage, above the crowd of tuxedoed guests and ladies in their finest evening gowns. Now, dressed in a simple white linen uniform, the man behind its complete reinvention stands little more than an arm’s length from a huddle of journalists, modest and entirely approachable.

In a way, the 68-year-old designer extraordinaire exemplifies the Hong Kong story. Born into a humble family of fishermen, Lo was a below-average performer in school, but persisted through hard work to attend technical college. Not content with being a draftsman for local firms, he moved abroad to study architecture at the University of Toronto and then Harvard, before building a new life in Europe as a successful multidisciplinary designer. So began a long-standing association with high-end Italian furniture studio Giorgetti (Lo served as its art director from 2004 to 2006) followed by the establishment of his own label, Dimensione Chi Wing Lo. Athens has been home for the past three decades by dint of his marriage to architect Panagiota Davlanti, whom he met while in college. “I speak Greek,” he tells me offhand during a quiet moment. And how has living in Athens all these years influenced him? Lo doesn’t quite answer the question. “It’s a slower lifestyle, more peaceful. The rhythm—,” at this, he makes a smooth undulating motion with one hand. “Having that variation—fast and slow—is a good thing.”

*Left to right:* A detail in the lobby at Regent Hong Kong; veteran designer Chi Wing Lo.

The reinvented hotel now sports a ribbed aluminum facade.

A view of the concierge desk and the Golden Illusion passageway, made up of 16 panels assembled from Lasvit glass bricks. — A view of the concierge desk and the *Golden Illusion* passageway, made up of 16 panels assembled from Lasvit glass bricks.

The commission for Regent Hong Kong, his biggest project to date, came out of the blue in 2017, when a mutual friend suggested the owners approach him after a previous proposal failed to impress. “I remember I was at Beijing Airport about to fly back to Europe. But then I got a call from my friend who asked me to change my flights and come to Hong Kong,” Lo says. He credits the owners for taking a gamble on someone who had never refurbished a hotel before, much less a designer without a studio team—a revelation that leaves us flabbergasted. “It gives me tremendous freedom, because I can choose the projects I want to take,” he explains. “When you have a team to support, you take on multiple projects to survive, and you can lose yourself in the process. The power of a designer is in being able to refuse, to say no.”

The opportunity to remodel such a landmark property in his hometown was one he could not turn down. But storm clouds were gathering on the horizon. Though Lo finished his detailed plans for the hotel in the summer of 2019, unforeseen budget cuts, cost inflation, and time constraints—coupled with Covid-driven uncertainty—meant that 85 percent of the project had to be completely redesigned the following year. He also learned that structural changes to the building (factored into the original concept drawings) were no longer possible. And yet, despite all these new limitations, Lo saw a silver lining: “In design, the more confined you are, the better you become.”

Case in point was the utilitarian trench running along the harbor-facing elevations on every guest room floor, intended for flower beds but ultimately used as a window-washing breezeway. Unable to demolish them to expand the interior spaces, Lo came up with a novel solution, repurposing the deep window ledge as a miniature “stone garden” with maze-like features and a bronze bonsai tree handmade by two local artists, each unique sculpture adding depth to an already postcard-perfect view.

Inside the living room of a 100-square-meter Corner Suite - Harbourview at Regent Hong Kong. — Inside the living room of a 100-square-meter Corner Suite – Harbourview at Regent Hong Kong.

The Corner Suite - Harbourview bedroom is separated from the living area by a curved sliding screen. — The Corner Suite – Harbourview bedroom is separated from the living area by a curved sliding screen.

Bathers using the same suite’s whirlpool tub can take in Hong Kong Island views through a moon gate–like window.

With the pandemic putting a halt to travel for all his other projects, the designer was based in Hong Kong working solely on the Regent. Lo matter-of-factly shares how he flew to Greece six times during that period to see family, and quarantined for three weeks almost always on the return. (Hong Kong had the unfortunate distinction of imposing one of the world’s harshest isolation rules for travelers.) And what insights did the designer pick up while in quarantine? “I learned what not to do in a hotel room,” he chuckles. “In some places, when you open the fridge, you have to crawl.”

Lo is adept at moving between multiple worlds, cultures, and languages—no surprise considering he has lived and worked across three continents. While in his company, I watch him effortlessly switch between English and an endearing hybrid of Cantonese and Mandarin depending on his audience. To a rapt group of mainland Chinese and Taiwanese writers, he speaks of a “Chinese spirit” at the Regent defined by humility and quietness. Only later do I learn that the owners wanted references to the Forbidden City, hence the pared-back palace doors screening off the guest quarters from the corridors. But inside, thanks to a balance of charcoal-gray granite and light-hued fabrics, the feeling strikes me as being more like a siheyuan—Beijing’s vernacular courtyard homes.

I’m especially curious about how the scalloped ceilings in most of the rooms came about. Rather than recalling the waves of the harbor or the sailcloth sheets and battens of a Chinese junk, Lo says the starting point was in fact the indirect lighting. Illuminated from below, the whitewashed curves have the appearance of fabric to make the space feel more expansive. He also employed other clever tricks in pursuit of the same goal: furniture was appropriately sized and lifted off the ground, while custom-made rubbish bins were stowed away beneath a hollow bench at the foot of the bed or slotted into the side of a low cabinet under the TV.

Stylized palace doors screen off the guest rooms and suites from the corridors. — Stylized palace doors screen off the guest quarters from the corridors.

High, upright bathtubs in the 38-square-meter Classic Harbourview rooms face the window.

Well-designed bathrooms come with plenty of storage space and a movable stool. — The well-designed bathrooms at Regent Hong Kong come with plenty of storage space and a movable stool.

Wallpapers and sliding doors in the guest rooms are adorned with a subtle pattern inspired by weaving.

There’s an interlocking motif that shows up just about everywhere at Regent Hong Kong: in the perforated ceiling of the lobby, the spiral staircase leading down to the ground-floor restaurants, the wallpapers and reflective sliding doors in guest rooms. When a fellow journalist quizzes Lo on its meaning, he brings up an innovation that has been with us since the dawn of human history: weaving. It symbolizes the process of multiplying both people and ideas, and speaks to a collaborative spirit—essential for keeping a hotel of this caliber running at peak performance.

As for the Presidential suite, Lo retained the original footprint and elements like the railings and bathroom fixtures, re-cladding the latter in richly veined green marble. But the rest, including the double-height living room, were reorganized as much as the project would allow. “The carpet here used to be so high because of the view, but I felt that was too greedy. Just think, if you have good food all the time, it is no longer something special,” he jokes. Though its transformation was less drastic compared to other accommodations, the duplex-style suite sports the same subdued palette of light and dark hues, of naturally warm and cold materials, all playing second fiddle to those million-dollar vistas.

“Whether you are living in Greece, in China, in other places, the most useful thing in the world is beauty. Beauty will last,” Lo declares. “The other thing is function. Whenever I talk about function, behind it there is always an aesthetic impulse.” His design for Regent Hong Kong is a prime illustration of both, and though it may not necessarily win over everyone—especially those with a preference for quirky maximalist decor—its serene timelessness and deeply practical nature will likely stand the test of time.

Room rates at the relaunched Regent Hong Kong start from US$842; hongkong.regenthotels.com.

Remaking the Regent: A Tour with Chi Wing Lo