By: Lucas Raven (Someone Who’s Finally Doing Birthdays Right)
Let’s get one thing straight: some birthdays are for sheet cake and group texts. Others are for Lake Como, a suite with more square footage than your first apartment, and a gin and tonic so meticulously crafted it might qualify as a religious experience. Mine was the latter.
Bellagio—yes, the real one, not the Vegas knockoff—sits like a crown jewel at the fork of Lake Como, where the water is glassy, the air smells like citrus and old money, and everything moves at a pace that says, “No one’s in a rush here, and neither should you be.” At the end of this postcard-perfect town stands Grand Hotel Villa Serbelloni, a place so steeped in elegance it makes your Rolex feel underdressed.
This is not a hotel that shouts. It doesn’t need to. It’s been here for over 150 years, collecting frescoes, Murano chandeliers, and stories from everyone who mattered. And for this birthday? It was mine. I checked into the ARTE Suite, ground floor, right on the water. Picture towering windows with uninterrupted lake views, a Warhol print hanging casually over Biedermeier furniture, a Kandinsky-patterned rug anchoring the room, and subtle Prada design details that feel more like a flex than décor. It’s equal parts art gallery and bachelor pad—a refined kind of masculine, where you pour a nightcap and suddenly feel like you’re in a Ridley Scott film.
But let’s talk about Alessandro—the kind of bartender who doesn’t just pour drinks, he orchestrates them. Want to understand what peak cocktail craftsmanship looks like? Order the gin and tonic. No, not a gin and tonic. The gin and tonic. It’s a full production: premium gin, hand-selected botanicals, precision-cut ice, and the kind of balance that makes you reevaluate every bar you’ve been to in the last ten years. Alessandro doesn’t ask how your day is. He makes it better.
His Negroni? Impeccable. Exactly bitter enough to remind you you’re an adult, but smooth enough to make you forget your inbox. This man could mix a drink in a hurricane and still find time to garnish with an orange twist that deserves its own headline. Days at Serbelloni follow a rhythm: a slow, luxurious descent into decadence. Wake up to sunlight spilling over the lake, eat breakfast in what used to be a ballroom, and realize that when the staff ask if you’d like fresh eggs, they’re not offering—they’re insisting. Spend afternoons by the lakefront pool, pretending you’re debating a swim when really, you’re locked in an internal battle between another Negroni or a nap. Sometimes both.
Dinner? Mistral serves up a tasting menu that punches above its weight. Quail with white grape reduction, locally foraged greens, pumpkin cream—these aren’t dishes, they’re events. Prefer something more laid-back? La Golettahandles pasta and grilled fish like a Milanese nonna with a kitchen full of Michelin stars.
And when the crowds in Bellagio swell, you’re safe behind Serbelloni’s gates, surrounded by subtropical gardens and views that look more like CGI than reality.
The hotel isn’t just timeless. It’s the antidote to every generic “luxury” stay you’ve endured in glass-and-chrome hotels with Bluetooth everything and zero soul. Serbelloni has soul. It’s still run by the same family that’s owned it for generations. The service is unforced, genuine—staff remember your name, your drink, your story. No script. Just hospitality at its best.
I came to Lake Como expecting a great view and a decent cocktail. What I got was a masterclass in how to travel like a grown man. A birthday that didn’t just check the box—it kicked the door open. My advice? Skip the party. Book the suite. Ask for Alessandro. And don’t forget the gin and tonic. You’ll understand why when you’re holding it.
