The room stay was splendid, with colors and textures aplenty in the wide room, tucked with a bedroom near the balcony with sliding doors and sunlight splashing in. I spent many days sizzling on the balcony, either in my truest forms, or clothed in tank tops with my Ganesha print from Topman, and never without my Retro Super Future sunglasses.

On working days, my outfit was more coy, having felt like a contractual winner after work meetings with unobstructed views of the city and the manmade oasis in the desert. While I am usually one for nature, the tranquility and silence that I felt from my perch was rewarding indeed. Worth the skinny Diesel denim, Kenneth Cole boots, Armani shirt and Ray Ban sunnies.

My favorite part of any hotel stay is the bathroom, and this was a marble soaked one with deep soaking Japanese square tubs and rain showers, with a window peering out into the fountain and city views, allowing me to sip champagne while I lushly soaked in the views and recalled the sinful memoires.

Whimsical wallpaper and unexpected details in interior design added a charismatic layer of whimsy. The artistic heads prompted me to wear my nightly gear that would be easy to unzip: a neoprene Armani Exchange sweatshirt, staple vintage denim and Staple Pigeon cap atop Marc Jacobs clear eyewear.

There will be an entire separate dedication to the pools and culinary offerings of this massive resort, with my Italian favorite Scarpetta already documented in sheer relish. What I enjoyed were the yawning windows in common areas where one could peer at the architectural feats of the city from various angles.

With a mind and body chilled like ice in succulent pleasure, I slowly floated out into the blazing heat of this oasis. Knowing that an oasis never really disappears, but rather swallows you up. Like melting ice.