Is Emirates First Class worth it?

I have been accumulating them for years – those golden frequent flyer points have been languishing in my account all the while alluringly whispering promises of future opulence. Flying at the pointiest of pointy end of a plane has always been on my Life List – one day, just once, I promised, I would indulge myself and fly First Class. And, true to my Life List philosophy of living my best life today rather than waiting until ‘later’, it was time to pull the trigger.

The Melbourne/ Dubai/ Melbourne leg of our trip to Sicily would be done in absolute style: Emirates First Class, thank you very much.

While I had offered to use my hard earned points to nab both myself and my partner Premium Economy flights, my lovely man – who to be fair can sleep standing up in a queue – was very happy for me to indulge myself: ‘Fly First Class, darling’, he said. ’I’ll call you’, he gesticulated as we boarded the flight – very, very separately.

In all honesty, the maths hurt. 340,000 points return in First Class versus approximately 260,000 in Business versus approximately 95,000 in Economy. The 80,000 point jump from Business to First could fund an altogether different adventure. Still, I told myself – this First Class experience was research! Someone needed to answer the age old question nobody asks loudly enough: is First Class really worth it, or have we all been seduced by clever marketing?

The Suite Life

The cabin manager greeted me with a warm smile and by name even before I proffered my boarding pass (I had it very handy just incase I was challenged for being in this rarified air). I was super impressed that he knew my name until I realised there were only 2 other travellers in First Class, both men, so it wasn’t such a stretch for him to guess that I must be ‘Ms Christie’. Still, the effect worked.

The Emirates First Class suite is a marvel of space efficiency. When you have travelled most of your life in EC, having a little cubby all to oneself is ridiculously delightful. Closing the sliding doors creates a personal microcosm that feels genuinely private, not just ‘business class with curtains’ and I secretly wished I had someone with me to giggle with at the opulence of it all. I was like a kid in a candy store – it did not take me long to sample my personal mini-bar of Perrier water, turn on my 32-inch screen, flick my private lamps on and off, open and close the suite door a few times, explore the Bvalgari swag bag (which contained a full sized bottle of perfume), and take a photo of each and every treat in my personal basket of treats. It was all undeniably impressive.

But here’s what I have realised – when I fly I am not really here for the real estate. I am here for one thing only: maximising sleep at 40,000 feet so I arrive at my destination feeling relatively human.

Within 15 minutes of take-off, the cabin manager had transformed my suite into a bedroom. The turndown service – complete with a mattress topper, fluffy quilt, and multiple pillows – is where First Class is elite. The bed is supremely comfortable and comes with a golden belt (no silver belts in FC, my friends). The PJs are a highlight – I usually sleep nude at home but have been wearing my Emirates PJs religiously, which either means they’re that good or I’m trying to eke out every ounce of value from those points.

I slept for a solid six hours, which almost made the points splurge feel rational. Almost.

Oh, and there’s a shower. Two of them actually, reserved in 30-minute slots like a day spa at altitude. I had a look and took a pic but decided I didn’t really need or aspire to be nude at 40,000 feet. Something about showering in a metal tube while hurtling through the stratosphere felt like a party trick I didn’t really need to perform.

But when in Rome…

You may have already guessed that I am not your typical luxury traveler – although to be honest I wouldn’t know. I probably max out at 4 glasses of wine a month and rarely drink on flights, so there was little allure in the French wines and aged liquors. Nor am I a social animal, so the famous Emirates bar – that hub of mid flight networking for the rich and famous – held about as much appeal as the duty-free cart. I popped past out of curiosity and to stretch my legs and it reminded me of the Barbie private jet mum couldn’t afford to buy me when I was a kid.

Despite this, my points guilt was real. When you’ve spent the equivalent in points of a used car on a flight, you feel a peculiar obligation to sample almost everything. So I did.

The cabin manager who by now had twigged to the fact that this was my virgin FC flight (perhaps it was the squeals of delight at the bed?), convinced me that I absolutely had to try the famous Emirates Caviar. And, he added, if I was going to do that, I must also try it with the 2015 Dom Pérignon because ‘that’s what most FC passengers do’, and suddenly not to do so felt like an insult to the experience. Ok. Bring it on.

The caviar service at 5am (which time zone are we in now?) was a joy to behold (better even than the PJs) and came with all the ceremony of a state banquet – white linen tablecloth and napkin, silver service, pearl spoon so as not to taint the purity of the fish eggs, blinis, finely sliced onion, egg whites, egg yolks, sour cream…the works. It was bloody delicious. Ok, I thought, I’m starting to understand the allure.

The Service Equation

What Emirates FC does brilliantly is service and the ability to anticipate needs without hovering or over bothering. When I said: ‘please don’t wake me as I need to sleep’, my request was completely honoured. The crew was incredibly warm and managed that delicate balance of professionalism and ‘OMG, it’s so exciting that you are flying FC for the first time, so here is an extra swag bag for your partner flying in EC and here are an extra 12 bottles of white chocolate covered nuts for your kids!!!’, that makes you feel like a valued guest, not cargo. 10 out of 10.

The Value Proposition

Is it with it? Hmmmm. Ok, here’s how I look at it: Emirates Business Class is exceptional and, while perhaps infinitesimally less personalised, still makes flying long haul an experience to look forward to rather than endure. And then there’s Premium Economy – that quiet overachiever where you get a very decent recline, more room in the cabin, a solid passenger to toilet ratio, great food, and priority boarding.

For mine, I can do without the shower and the French wine as long as I get to sleep. And while my sleep in FC was great – was it 245,000 points greater than flying Economy? Probably not. Certainly not when I watched my partner disembarking from EC having slept his usual coma-like eight hours in the cheap seats, freshened up with a $4 wet wipe, and looking suspiciously more rested than I felt.

Conclusion: Life List goal ticked but I’m afraid that’s all folks

There’s something very human about wanting to have a peak behind the curtain. An opportunity to test whether exceptional luxury feels as good as it looks on Instagram. For 14 hours or so each way, I lived the high life and it was very, very fun. First Class on Emirates is certainly the ultimate upgrade but at the cost of a 50% point premium, I am happy for it to have been a one off experiment. I’m genuinely grateful for the experience, but as someone whose flying priority is sleep and arriving functional, the hefty number of points required for FC are a little hard to justify.

So here’s the tea – if your points balance looks like a phone number and you derive joy from the theatre of luxury, Emirates FC is a magnificent production. If you are a voyeur and want to sample living the lifestyle of the rich and famous, it’s also fun (but expensive). For mine, my inner voyeur has now been satisfied and my pragmatism will ultimately win – I value sleep above caviar and quiet above champagne, and so Business Class – or even Premium Economy with a good neck pillow – is where my smart points will be spent.