Oxblood, Gilded Yellow, Ink Black, and Nude Pink. The Materiality: Patinated brass, tufted velvet, raw silk, and smoked glass.

The bathroom is, predictably, a glass cube in the center of the suite. Frosted glass at the push of a button, but transparent by default. The tub is a single piece of carved rosso levanto marble, deep enough to drown in. The fixtures are raw, unlacquered brass that will patina with every guest’s use, leaving watermarks like ghostly signatures. Dining here is an exercise in voyeurism and exhibitionism. The restaurant, "L’Origine," is a dark rectangle with a single, long communal table made from a slab of petrified oak. Seating is unassigned. You will eat next to a stranger.

The bedroom is dominated by the —a low, platformless structure that sits directly on a raised dais. The headboard is a single, massive sheet of hammered brass, oxidized to a dark, bruised gold. It is cold to the touch but visually steaming. Opposite the bed, there is no television. There is a 65-inch screen that plays a continuous, silent loop of Tinto Brass’s greatest montages—fragments of thighs in garters, glances over shoulders, the tying of corsets—on a loop, mirrored by the actual guest moving through the room.

The corridor leading to the suites is a hall of mirrors—not the clean, geometric mirrors of a dance studio, but warped, Venetian-style specchi concavi that distort the passerby into a Venus of Urbino. Every surface reflects. The floor is polished black marble so glossy it acts as a liquid mirror. The ceilings are frescoed, but not with cherubs; they depict scenes from Roman decadence, rendered in the hyper-saturated, glossy style of Brass’s Caligula and The Key .