If you enjoy selfies and "foodporn"-type shots, the Capitol is for you.

The Capitol Building is a vision with illuminated bidet sprays!

Wedged between the boot of city hall and the quay side of town, the Capitol Building is an erecting stature that boasts the same towering presence of Ion Orchard, Tangs, and even, Abercrombie and Fitch. Although they share similar powerful infusions powered through air vents- think yuzu, vanilla, and Ion's aloe relaxant, Capitol's floral spray matters because it throws off the simmering rank smells of concrete, sweat, and the urban buzz outside. "Breathe new life into luxe," it promises.

Since its restoration, Capitol has swung its doors open (with a Jubilee highlight of a film 1965 to boot) to fanciful eateries and upscale boutiques- a modern fixture of luxury hotels one can expect to par for the course.

Though, without breaking the bank, the swanky new mall is a better place to take your coffee, along with a couple of selfies.

Fixated onscreen toward my right was not what it looked like- a burger.

As a stopover for the blistering hot afternoon with plenty of time to kill, Capitol offers a platter of food options. Motivated by two-storey boutique cafes with a view to absorb the piazza's experience, the place is fully air conditioned with an outdoorsy view bathed in daylight. Apart from a few uninitiated tourists captivated by its interior, you'd find locals tucked into the corners of cafes, settled in with the atmosphere, serving as backdrop for a Sunday's painter landscape artwork.

More excitedly in its basement, you'd find the novelty in BreadTalk owned Palette, a multi-cuisine (read: food court) dining concept housing signature dishes with award-winning titles like a wrestling belt. But there's no fighting for seats here. Palette is an upscale food court with uniformed wait staff and a functional cocktail bar smacked at the entrance- just in case you missed it the first time. With unflinching gazes, they'd eagerly bring you to your seats, which, compared to the endearing concept of "chope" at real food courts, are assigned. You'd be handed with an iPad, per protocol with most dining concepts these days, and you'd want to ask for a glass of water. But that's not in tandem with the rest, no; water's three dollars, free flow.

Easy navigation make ordering food fool proof.

Confirming orders from a touch-and-go iPad beats old fashioned menus, hands down. 

If you're not yet dizzy from the glitz of luxury food court, the food actually performs well. It's what you'd expect from spending $11 for a bowl of soupy noodles. Or in our case, $4.50 for prawn chee cheong fan and $3.50 for six pieces of prawns swathed in crispy beancurd skin. Chugging beer alongside the afternoon dim sum is also a bliss, notwithstanding the chargeable service fee that'd later, much to our chagrin, top off our bill of two beers and dim sum to a steep $32.50.

That's me seducing the lens with a fun-sized seaweed wrapped beancurd roll.

A cool, tall one smooths over your palate, greased with delicious hawker dishes.

As the wafting fragrance hits you on the nose one last time before you sober up from the exorbitance of Capitol, joining back the school of people outside feels real. The crowd, the construction, the noise drilling into your consciousness can only be an awakening. That if Ion made you feel like the rich, Capitol would be royalty, like every whiff of its floral scent unique to its illusory lavishness.

Must be a bitch to clean.