Few can tame the frenetic pulse of Las Vegas, but Simon Kim’s new Cote location at The Venetian meets the moment with precision and flair. “We really dialed up the DNA of Las Vegas,” Kim says. “Whether you’re looking for gastronomy or a hard-to-find bottle of wine, it’s about putting people first—our guests and our staff—and harnessing that power of and.”
“It starts with feeling, not form,” says architect and designer David Rockwell. “We wanted guests to feel like they were the focus of the experience—the celebration itself.” That philosophy shapes every curve and glow. Step through its portal and the city’s chaos fades into gold and ember. A petaled ceiling dusted in leafed shimmer ensconces a circular bar in soft light—“a reflective, warm environment that keeps people at the center,” Rockwell says. At its heart, wine director Victoria James curates the rhythm—glass by glass, the bar becomes part of the performance.
The gold petals above abstract Cote’s flower emblem, catching the light and scattering it across mirrored panels that double the beatific scene in glass and glow. “It manages to be intimate and grand at the same time,” Rockwell adds, “and that balance became our secret ingredient.” The room rises around it in terraces of tufted nocturnal-emerald leather booths, each soapstone table fitted with Cote’s signature fire grill—small hearths begging to regale diners with flame and spectacle.
From above, the room moves like choreography—three acts of approach, elevation, and retreat: a triptych of space in motion: “The bar pulls you in, the terraces pull you up, the garden pulls you back.” Each visit reveals a new rhythm—private sky boxes that morph into karaoke lounges, a garden bar that glows like daylight at 2 a.m., its living wall kept vibrant by full-spectrum light. “When you come from out there into here,” Rockwell says, “you’re in a world that could be anywhere. It’s almost cinematic.”
For Kim and Rockwell, the project became a study in creative rhythm. “We kept one-upping each other in the most robust way,” Kim laughs. “This time, we truly complemented one another.” Rockwell nods to that dynamic: “Simon has very strong ideas, but he’s open to very strong ideas. It’s like a master class—we bring the best of what we can think of, he brings the best of what he can think of.”
That dialogue between designer and restaurateur extends to every sense. “Every operational move is invisible but choreographed,” Rockwell says. “It’s almost like the food—there aren’t a lot of ingredients, but each one is rich and the real thing.”
The menu mirrors the city’s appetite for indulgence, like the Vegas-only BlackJack Sandwich layered with Kagoshima A5 and Périgord truffle. “We don’t do cookie-cutter—that’s boring,” Kim says. “Even in the food, we wanted to embody what Las Vegas is: bold, playful, and new.”
Patrick Nichols, CEO of The Venetian Resort Las Vegas, calls the collaboration a sign of the city’s evolution. “Sometimes in Las Vegas, things get homogenized and become something for everyone—which means they’re nothing for no one. Working with Simon, who has such a laser-focused point of view, brought this project to life.”
That clarity of vision runs through every detail. “My favorite thing,” Rockwell says, “is that it manages to be intimate and grand at the same time.” Few spaces on the Strip can claim such a paradox: a spectacle that breathes, a stage that listens back.
