Alvear Palace Hotel

There’s a certain set of tradition-bound travelers for whom every town, no matter how big, really has only one place to stay — the Copacabana in Rio, the Peninsula in Hong Kong, the Oberoi when visiting the Taj. In Buenos Aires, that hotel has more or less always been the Alvear Palace. It’s the high-society heart of Argentina, a place where bejeweled socialites gather to sip tea, and where a freshly pressed business suit would be perfectly fitting breakfast attire. (The Alvear’s breakfast, as anyone in these circles will tell you, is legendary.) And behind all the surfaces — the gleaming white marble, the Persian rugs, the teardrop chandeliers — there’s an exceedingly comfortable, unfailingly well-run hotel, every bit the match of all the pomp.

The rooms are so ornate, with their floral-print gold-colored bedding and Louis XVI furniture, they almost feel out of time. There are heaps of fruit and flowers, heftily framed oil paintings on the walls, deep baths with vials of the finest Hermès suds at their sides. Butler service is round-the-clock, and for those who’ve brought a staff of their own, the various royal and presidential suites can more than comfortably accommodate bodyguards, personal advisors or on-the-go entourages.

Adorned with marble pillars and gold leaf, the lobby is a freeze-frame of hotel luxury circa 1932, and no less the dazzling for its age. There are perhaps fewer exotic furs draped over ladies’ shoulders, but only fractionally fewer, and demoiselles toting bags from Recoleta’s high-end shops remain a regular sight.

The hotel’s haute French restaurant has long been a major social venue for the nation’s elite. There’s no better place to catch some high-level gossip or score an invitation to the Colón Opera gala, should that be your thing. In short, if you’d like your temporary address to the best in Buenos Aires, the Alvear Palace is it.