Pure poetry in Phuket
I’ve always had a penchant for the whimsical, the eclectic, and the delightfully out-of-the-box. Once you set foot inside The Slate in Phuket, it is as though you are walking into a dream-like zone. Here, memory flirts with fantasy. For a while, I was truly uncertain if I had fallen asleep or was gently roused from imaginary slumber by the cool caress of the ocean breeze.
From the moment you step on this island, a beautiful disorientation sets in. It’s as though the resort itself murmurs, “Leave the ordinary behind.” Designed by the brilliant Bill Bensley, The Slate is more than just a hotel—it’s a living, breathing work of art. Every detail was well thought out and every corridor is unrivaled. Tropics and industry blend into this space, where the past has eased the tin-mining era in Phuket. A fusion of steel, wood and shadow is woven into sculpture, furniture and story.
The past is not forgotten here; instead, it’s honorably reimagined at The Slate. They make use of reclaimed metal beams, rusty gears and worked machinery as though verses in poetic constellations woven into the design. Each room is a spacious sanctuary, a chapter unto itself. And the washrooms? Almost the size of the bedrooms, they are statements of pure creative indulgence. Only an eye like Bensley’s could imagine such proportions and make them feel not just luxurious, but entirely intuitive. And yes, even the public washrooms scattered throughout the property are whimsical wonders—surprising, memorable, even magical. You’ll find yourself smiling, thinking, Was that the most enchanting part? Perhaps it was.
Dining at The Slate is equally surreal. The Michelin-plated Black Ginger floats ethereally on a lagoon, accessible only by raft — like a scene from a dream. Rivet & Rebar exudes industrial cool, while Tin Mine serves global delights throughout the day. Sip cocktails at Tongkah Tin Syndicate, swim up to Pulley Pool & Bar, or indulge in private moments at The Cellar, Chef’s Table, or Private Dining under the stars. Even in-room dining feels bespoke. And the Sunday brunch at Rivet? A highlight not to be missed.
Besides the cuisine, satisfaction takes many forms; the serene Coqoon Spa, the meditating calm of the Snakeskin Infinity Pool, and the playful spirit of the Tin Box Kids’ Club for young explorers. For ultimate pampering, each pool villa is equipped with private steam rooms, saunas, and personal butlers.
While wandering this surreal resort with long winding walks, I was fortunate to meet and spend time with the pretty and bright owner of The Slate, Prakaikaew Na-Ranong, whom we know as Khun Moo. She is the daughter of Wichit Na-Ranong, an eminent figure who is lovingly deemed ‘the Father of Tourism in Phuket.’ Carrying forth this legacy today as a co-owner and managing director of this five-star jewel, Khun Moo is also the proud mother of two and an avid traveler herself.
Travel has never been about stamps in a passport for Khun Moo; it is about discovering the very heartbeat of a place. Her stories travel as freely as she does: through Bhutan, the Maldives, South America, and the Atlas Mountains. The essence of her travel philosophy is simple yet ever so complex: search for places that attract one’s soul the most and those who share living stories, whether through the soul-stirring streets of Mexico, where life spills across the palette in the colors of ancient ancestral rhythm or losing oneself among the sensory gold of Morocco. To her, Burma remains an unforgettable memory with emotional depth and secrets. The Slate is Khun Moo’s brainchild; her extensive heart to her heritage, to the arts, and to the people and culture of Thailand have shaped the Slate to its glory.
The Slate is not for everyone. But for those who truly see, it is pure poetry. It’s for the dreamers. The romantics. The wanderers who seek not just rest, but resonance. What lingers most here isn’t just the beauty or the indulgence—it’s the spirit of the place. The way it quietly connects you to something deeper: to artistry, to story, to the past, reimagined.
So, here’s to The Slate—where endings feel like beginnings, and every step feels like a stanza in a living poem. It seems, after all, written in shadow, steel and sunlight.
