In a year when headlines about Hong Kong tend to speak in the language of “decline”, something quietly and rather inconvenient happened. Hong Kong became home to the best hotel in the world and the best bar in the world. Not Asia’s best. Not “best in the region”. The best, full stop.

At the recent World’s 50 Best Hotels ceremony in London, Rosewood Hong Kong took the global top spot, rising from last year’s third place. Earlier in October, when the World’s 50 Best Bars awards were held in the city, Hong Kong’s Bar Leone claimed the crown. In the span of a month, Hong Kong became the place where you can sip the world’s No 1 Negroni before turning in at the world’s No 1 suite.

This should have been front-page news. Yet one almost has to learn of it from international sources. Local discourse has become so accustomed to diagnosing what might be wrong with the city that it sometimes forgets to notice what remains exquisitely right.

A visitor I met in a hotel gym — European, well-traveled, unsentimental — summed it up simply: “It feels like nowhere else.” He meant it casually, yet he described the defining truth of Hong Kong’s cultural identity. While many cities compete on size or spectacle or the theatrics of ambition, Hong Kong competes on texture. On atmosphere. On the sensation of a city experienced at street level, in moments rather than slogans.

We saw this again during Halloween, when the streets of Central, Tsim Sha Tsui, Mong Kok, and even quiet neighborhoods filled with crowds in costumes ranging from artfully elaborate to joyfully ridiculous. Bars overflowed, sidewalks turned into catwalks, and the city collectively remembered how to let its hair down. Cantonese mingled with English, Putonghua, Tagalog, Nepali, and French. Many of the newcomers arriving under talent programs saw, perhaps for the first time, Hong Kong as something other than a tax rate or salary band. They saw delight. They saw social permission. They saw life.

The significance was not that Hong Kong celebrated Halloween. Hong Kong has always enjoyed festivals. What mattered was the absence of hesitation. The city was not trying to justify itself. It was simply living. It was one of those evenings when Hong Kong remembered that life does not need to be optimized at every turn. Joy is a civic asset. Frivolity is cultural infrastructure. The ability to be a little unserious together is a sign of social health.

Hong Kong is not “back” and does not need to be. The city is evolving, as it always has. But in the year of the world’s best Negroni and best harbor-view suite, in a place where thousands can step into the streets in costume without permission or apology, Hong Kong retains something rare and precious: the freedom to live life in full color

This is where Hong Kong’s uniqueness becomes visible, especially in relation to other major Chinese cities. Cities like Shanghai, Shenzhen, and Chengdu each has its own cultural strengths and creative energy. But Hong Kong offers something that is still rare in the region: a rhythm of life that is shaped by global exposure, Cantonese wit, street intimacy, and a long-standing ease with difference. It’s not just East meets West, but a lived integration where multiple languages, cuisines, aesthetics, and sensibilities coexist without needing to be curated. This texture cannot be instantly replicated because it is not the result of planning. It’s the result of time.

The same sensibility appears in how the city approaches innovation. Hong Kong is exploring digital finance, creative technology, and new economic models with neither reckless hype nor cautious paralysis. It’s doing something more deliberate: allowing experimentation in real markets, with real stakes, and with regulatory clarity. It’s the same pragmatism that once shaped the city’s financial markets and hospitality culture. Hong Kong has always excelled when it treats itself not as a fixed identity, but as an evolving process.

This is why comparisons framed as succession battles misunderstand what makes cities meaningful. A city is not a prize to be awarded to whichever competitor reaches a threshold of GDP or skyline height. A city is a feeling. A way of moving, interacting, and encountering others in shared space. Many cities can build towers. Not many can build ease. Many cities can execute efficiency. Not many can cultivate spontaneity.

Hong Kong’s future will depend on whether it continues to nurture the conditions that allow life to feel textured instead of merely functional. The world’s best hotel and the world’s best bar are not just accolades. They are signals of an ecosystem of taste, hospitality, craftsmanship, risk-taking, and trust. Halloween crowds were not just nightlife. They were proof that the city still remembers how to take joy seriously. And that ability, the freedom to be playful, to be improvisational, to be alive, is not something that can be manufactured elsewhere on demand.

Hong Kong is not “back” and does not need to be. The city is evolving, as it always has. But in the year of the world’s best Negroni and best harbor-view suite, in a place where thousands can step into the streets in costume without permission or apology, Hong Kong retains something rare and precious: the freedom to live life in full color.

That, more than any award, is what makes it irreplaceable.

The author is chairman of the Asia MarTech Society and sits on the advisory boards of several professional organizations, including two universities.

The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.