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Couples · October 20252/10
They claim to be a 4-star hotel. Let’s start there, because that’s quite a claim. They are not, by any conceivable stretch of imagination, a 4-star hotel. Their website proudly trumpets: “A relaxing b...They claim to be a 4-star hotel. Let’s start there, because that’s quite a claim. They are not, by any conceivable stretch of imagination, a 4-star hotel. Their website proudly trumpets: “A relaxing boutique hotel.” That’s cute. It’s neither relaxing, nor boutique, nor remotely close to anything you’d call a hotel experience worth repeating.
The rooms, according to their poetic marketing copy, feature “tea and coffeemakers.” That sounds fancy — until you discover they mean a $10 plastic kettle from Kmart and a few sachets of instant coffee that could double as grout. There’s no fresh milk, no pod machine, no charm. Just the distinct sense that you’ve overpaid for a motel that’s been given a very optimistic PR makeover.
Their website also promises “room service available.” It’s technically true if you consider “room service” to mean the vending machine downstairs offering a few kinds of soft drink and a packet of stale chips. There’s no actual food service, no breakfast — just a cheery suggestion at reception that you “try one of the local cafés.” Because nothing says boutique hotel luxury quite like being directed out onto the street with an apologetic smile and a map of nearby brunch options.
Let’s talk about the “on-site restaurant.” In reality, it’s a glorified bistro that moonlights as a nightclub, complete with thumping dance music, sticky floors, and rowdy drunk patrons with no self-awareness shouting at each other across the *checks notes*...'music'. The “lobby” is barely the size of a broom closet, gloomy enough to qualify as a crypt, and only accessible after negotiating your way past a team of nightclub security guards who wall of nightclub security guards who look confused as to why you’re not holding a vodka cruiser.
Now, the fine print does technically mention there’s a nightclub on site. What they fail to mention is that it’s effectively underneath the rooms — and that the sound system doubles as a seismic testing device from midnight until after 5 a.m. The provided earplugs (handed over with a knowing smirk at check-in) are an acknowledgment that sleep is more of a concept than a guarantee.
If, by some miracle, you make it out for dinner and return later than 9 p.m., you’ll be thrilled to discover the front entrance is closed off for nightclub security. Hotel guests are instead redirected to the delightful rear entrance through a smelly carpark, where you’ll have the added thrill of dodging drunk patrons staggering in and out of the venue, or the occasional fistfight happening in the alley across the road. Nothing says boutique ambience quite like the sweet aroma of stale beer and wonton Melbourne violence.
When 5:30 a.m. finally rolled around and the last drunk stumbled home, we collapsed into something resembling rest — only to be woken twice by housekeeping. Once at 9:45, again at 10:30. Both times they barged straight in, undeterred by the fact we’d been granted late checkout until noon. There was no “Do Not Disturb” sign available to hand on the door of course, because that might have made too much sense.
At checkout, I expressed my disappointment to the front desk staff, who assured me the manager would call me the next morning. That was days ago. I’m still waiting, though I suspect they’re saving the call until after the next DJ set wraps up at sunrise.
In summary: this is not a 4-star hotel. It’s barely a 3-star, and that’s with generous rounding. Think of it as a Budget Rave and Sleep Deprivation Centre masquerading as a “relaxing boutique experience.” Perfect if you enjoy insomnia, tinnitus, and being woken up by strangers. Otherwise, you might find more rest and refinement at your local backpackers — or in your car, parked two blocks away from the bassline.Show More
