At first sight, Rajvilas appears to be a converted relic of Rajasthan's warrior past. More impressively than that, however, the sturdy fort has only just been built, using traditional local crafts and artisans, at a cost of $20 million.

The approach, past turquoise pools, fountains, pavilions and tiled courtyards, is Mughal-meets-Hollywood, so lavish and sparkling that one can't quite believe it is real. It reminded me of San Simeon (William Randolph Hearst's Californian folly), the sort of grand project undertaken only by megalomaniacs, the very foolish or the very shrewd. Biki Oberoi, head of the successful Oberoi Group and creator of Rajvilas, undoubtedly falls into the latter group.

Inspired after restoring an old fort for himself, he decided to re-create the princely way of life for guests. A 30-acre plot was found, 20 minutes' drive from Jaipur; the grounds were landscaped around an existing temple and haveli (traditional mansion), which now houses a luxurious Ayurvedic spa. The duties of Maharaja - General Manager, in latterday terms - fell to Biki's eager young son, Vikram Oberoi.

As a fan of the tatty-edged palace hotels of Rajasthan, run by the Maharajas and Thakurs who grew up in them, I was not sure whether I would warm to the ersatz style, but the two can't be compared. Here, aEUR˜treated as a personal guest' does not mean in the palace hotel sense, where you get to rifle through family photo albums and ride their horses, but in the American boutique hotel sense, where you get to leaf through coffee-table books and ride a golf buggy to your villa.

The service and services are as flawless as they get, not just in India but on the world stage. Oberoi's standards are as exacting as those of the Swiss. Over 7,000 people were interviewed for 130 jobs, and the winners were picked for their attractiveness and positive energy. If I have a complaint, it's the exhaustion of returning all those friendly greetings (how do they all know my name?) as you pad through the hotel.

Cuisine, under Australian chef Edwin Rosenkranz, is a modern fusion of Asian and European, a first for the Rajasthani desert. One night I dined outside on exquisite chilled cucumber soup and chicken tikka, in the flickering light of flaming torches. The next, as I savoured spiced prawns in the arcaded dining room, there was a sudden scraping of chairs as guests stood up to greet Bubbles, Maharaja of Jaipur.

The lobby, library-bar and rooms are beautifully designed in East-meets-West mode. The gleam of polished wood and brass, the crisp bed-linen, the marble bathrooms opening onto personal gardens - these are things one would never find in an old palace hotel. Similarly, the spa offers discreet massages and beauty therapies that one would expect in the West. The last time I tried an Indian spa, I had to lie spreadeagled under a tree, as the masseur scoured my body with the sole of his foot. Here, my flesh was oh-so-gently pummelled by an elegant Punjabi girl's manicured fingers.

Whether all this makes it superior or a little soulless is a matter of taste. I loved the contrast - character is not hard to come by in India; high standards are (though they come with a Western price tag). I found it quiet, so far from the city, and missed the independence of being able to walk outside and hail an auto-rickshaw, but the sort of guests who come to Rajvilas are chauffeur-driven-Ambassador types anyway. Giorgio Armani loved his deluxe tent (these tents come with teak floors and aircon). If, like him, you want to leave nothing to chance, Rajvilas is for you.

Sue Carpenter