The Venice Simplon-Orient-Express has captured imaginations and sat high on an untold number of bucket lists for as long as it’s been in operation. One of the hallmarks of the golden age of travel, this time capsule transports Zaneta Cheng to a gilded era of Art Deco finishings, Lalique glass, Baccarat crystal and black-tie dining

In an age of speed, efficiency and personal aviation, few modes of travel capture the modern imagination quite like the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express. An anachronism of polished blue steel, its carriages and iconic crest gleam as it sweeps down Venice’s Santa Lucia station ready for embarkation as drab modern commuter trains screech to a halt and shoot off around it. Its presence is clearly felt as regular train travellers tear their gazes away from their phones to look in awe at this monument to the golden age of travel.

Guests, having been escorted to the train station via water taxi from our respective hotels by the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express team, scale the length of the train, searching for the lacquered carriage we will call home for 24 hours – the length of time it will take us to get from Venice to Paris, an otherwise one-and-a-half- hour flight. But nobody is here for efficiency. If we were, we wouldn’t be dressed in our finest. Trainers and shorts are not part of the dress code on board. This is as much a journey back to a far more decadent age as it is physical transportation. Our impeccably liveried porter, stationed at our carriage door, whisks our bags from us and ushers us into our cabin.

We’re in one of the suites, a jewel box room restored in 2023 by French craftsmen – a vibrant gleaming ode to Art Deco with inlaid wood and colours, patterns and textured inspired by designers such as Dufrêne and Lalique. There are four suites to a cabin, each a different colour inspired by the surroundings. I won’t give them all away, save for ours, which is blue, capturing the colours of the snow-capped mountains and lakes that the train will pass on its way north. Two windows frame the cabin while a sofa and armchair surround a lacquered table. Everything is lacquered. The aesthetic cohesion compels us to immediately stow all semblance of modernity behind the closet door and shut it firmly.

Because the cabin remains quite compact, larger pieces of luggage are stowed in a separate luggage car and we bring only what we need for the night on board. The en-suite bathroom, only found in the suites, is a feat of engineering, featuring a toilet, wash basin and shower within inches of one another yet, perhaps because of its carved Lalique sink, marble cladding, mosaic floor and beautiful Officine Universelle Buly bath products, these compact mod cons fit right into the dream.

There are eight suites and six grand suites on board the trains and 40 historic cabins. Those looking for the most authentic experience should opt for the historic cabins, which are fitted with a wash basin and seats that convert to an upper and lower bed in the evenings. There are shared bathrooms at the end of each carriage. These would’ve been the cabins that Samuel Ratchett, otherwise known as Lanfranco Cassetti, and those connected to the Armstrong family would have occupied on their journey from Istanbul to Paris in Agatha Christie’s 1934 novel Murder on the Orient Express.

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Not long after settling into the room with our canapes and champagne, the announcement is made for lunch. Largely in pairs, guests walk past our interior windows which face the train hallway. It’s useful for people watching from the inside as much as it is to peer into other cabins from the outside. Because the train has occupied so much space in the Western subconscious for so long and its mythologies remain so strong, it draws a varied milieu. There are, of course, the ardent Agatha Christie readers like me for whom Hercule Poirot is woven into the very fibre of the train’s existence. There are others who want to relive a bygone era when luxury travel had a different kind of sheen, or history buffs who want in on travelling on restored carriages that date back to the 1920s. Some of the carriages in use include even those from Georges Nagelmackers’s original Orient Express service. One of the carriages on our journey – Sleeping Car 3309 – we learn, was stranded for 10 days in a snowdrift near Budapest in 1929, which served as inspiration for Murder on the Orient Express. Then there are those who have simply heard that this is one form of luxury travel that one should not miss and would like to check it out, as well as others who are on board for the Instagram photos.

We walk past historic cabins and other suites, peering in as we make our way down the length of the train. Each cabin is assigned to a table in one of the three dining cars – the Étoile du Nord, Côte d’Azur and the L’Oriental. Ours is the Côte d’Azur, a dark walnut car with navy velvet curtains and seats that work to perfectly showcase incredible panels of René Lalique glass that stretch across the car. Each dining car has served as a dining car since the late 1920s, when they were built, restored to former glory when purchased for the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express.

Lunch is served on white tablecloths with polished silver. A four-course meal is delivered dish after dish from tuna tartare to wild river trout, ending with a baked Alaska, from the train kitchens. All the meals are led by Jean Imbert, which makes the entire experience a gourmand’s delight because shortly after we set our napkins down, afternoon tea is delivered to our cabin and immaculately set up. For anybody still puckish outside of the meals included, the bar car otherwise numbered 3674 offers not only a king’s choice of beverages but its equal weight in nibbles – like an incredible croque monsieur and an unmissable lobster roll.

There’s not much afternoon to while away after two decadent meal sittings. We wander to the gift shop where there are keychains, caps and dishes galore for anybody looking to bring a piece of the train back with them. For anybody who cares, there is a photograph of David Suchet tucked behind a teaspoon and a couple of saucers on display from the time when the Hercule Poirot actor rode on board. We play backgammon in the plush green chairs of the Étoile du Nord dining car, where the afternoon light bounces off of the floral marquetry
that decorates the car.

Before long, it’s time to get dressed for supper. The dress code is black tie and so off everybody goes to don yet more finery. The train chugs languidly through the Swiss Alps at this point. We pass a magnificent alpine lake and the light is as clean and unfiltered as one would expect in such mountain ranges. Everyone is shuffled into a different car and this time, we’ve been allocated a table in the L’Oriental car where black lacquer panels gleam amidst golden velvet furnishings.

The air is convivial, and conversations spark across tables. Some travellers are taking their mother on a birthday treat. Others are celebrating anniversaries. So it naturally carries on after dinner when the bar car, a vision of blue zebra-print velvet upholstery, is transformed into a jazz den.

A few cocktails and tunes later, we slowly make our way back to our room to find it transformed into a bedroom with a double bed occupying nearly the entire length and width of the space. It’s more than enough room for two to sleep comfortably and after washing up in our marble bathroom, we are rocked to sleep by the trundling of the train.

In the morning, we wake to the fields of France. It’s a completely different view to that of dinner and the Italian landscapes of the early afternoon the day before. Our porter quickly transforms the cabin back into a sitting room and has laid out breakfast by the time I come out having changed in the bathroom. We sip teas and partake in viennoiseries as the train makes its way to Paris. We put our things away and walk down the full length of the train reading the histories of every car and before we know it, we’re saying our goodbyes. As we step off the train and take one last long look at the gleaming, polished blue exterior of this gilded legend on wheels, it feels as though we’re waking up from a fever dream we weren’t ready to see end just yet.

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