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The merry stars of Windsor
In Melbourne we stayed at The Hotel Windsor on Spring Street, right over the road from the Victorian parliament house, and oh-so-conveniently exactly at a stop on the city circle free tram route. It was teh awesome.
The Windsor is 5 stars worth of 19th century charm and grace we would not normally get anywhere near, but I stumbled across a Wotif.com red hot deal for the days that we were staying. I'll never look at the words "breakfast included" the same ever again. I thought I'd done well securing a $750 room for $200 per night, but it wasn't until later I appreciated the sheer bliss of a $75 per head buffet breakfast. For free ;-)
Yes folks, we scored $2,700 worth of food and accommodation for 2 people for a grand total of $600. Am I gauche in celebrating this fact? Does it make me common? It certainly doesn't make me cool, but you know what? I don'tgive a flying rat's arse what you think care. I also made the decision to not be especially cool when we checked in. I mean, I didn't run up and down the corridors laughing and screaming, but I did wildly uncool things like smile at the staff and thank them. And I stared happily at the chandelliers and plaster decorations like the tourist I was. People were there to carry our bags and fetch us things; I let them.
OK, I did make one concession and tried to dress a bit more nicely than usual when we checked in and went down for breakfasts. Ironically I used the iron in the hotel room far more often than I would have at home, but I didn't want to look like my usual mad cat lady self.
The room was long and narrow and had plenty of space. Actually there were three rooms - the main sleeping/lounge/dressing table/desk area, the bathroom with a decently sized bath, and a separate walk-in robe/dressing room/ironing/kitchen space. All the furniture was antique (ar at least pleasantly aged) wood. The bathroom was tiled not in marble as advertised, but some kind of ocean fossil jasper, but I'll forgive them ;-). I loved the carpet and the draperies. I did actually take and tweet photos of those but haven't downloaded them off my phone.
The mattress was glorious - firm and even, but with enough give for comfort. We were supplied with goosedown pillows which were softer than I'd normally like, but they folded and squished into any custom shape required, so I did not avail myself of the Pillow Menu. None of this "firm, medium or soft?" sorry excuse for a pillow menu I've met in other alleged 5 star hotels in Perth, oh no. This Pillow Menu had a selection of 9 types of pillows as lovingly described as haute cuisine, and printed on heavy embossed card. Later I was horrified to discover that Husband had souvenired it. I await the additional credit card charge with trepidation.
I spent quite a lot of our three days and nights in that room, but the fossil-bearing jasper in the bathroom kept me company while I soaked in the bath, and the carpet provided hours of entertainment as I lay on the bed.
When we checked in the concierge said it was a quiet room, and so the view was not over the main street but across a narrow alley to some apartments. At night we could hear bar noises through the bathroom window, but not noticeably in the main room. It was a bit weird to listen to people chat and laugh as I soaked in the bath completely nekkid. We heard tram bells pretty consistently but it's a reasonably low-pitched sound that didn't become too bothersome. Although I admit I could easily imagine the sound driving me postal in times of stress, pretty much anything can drive me postal at such times.
We were close to a housekeeping station so there was a bit of rattle and chat outside in the early to mid afternoon, but normal people are not usually in their rooms at such times. On a few occasions I heard the giggling progress of couples passing down the corridor taking the advice of strangers, it would seem, to get a room. I heard kids giggling and running down the hall just once or twice, and never acually saw a single child the whole three days we were there. So yes, quiet.
The Breakfast Buffet at the Windsor was an education. I didn't quite let caution to the wind, but I certainly allowed it to shoot the breeze. Bacon was high on my agenda, and I did have some the first morning, with divinely scrambled eggs and a rather naughty mushroom. But bacon was displaced on the second morning by my discovery of the smoked salmon. And why not, the wine glass of yoghurt and berries. And a little pastry for luck. Lunch did not figure largely in our plans.
One was entertained by a pleasant CD of elegant lobby-friendly piano music - nothing too fast or tinkly for the delicate morning ear, nor too slow and solemn to discourage one's awakenings. Jazz standards, basically, and a few movie and show tunes, and we happily identified them all. On the first morning we lingered while I let everything settle in to place and Husband read The Australian. They played the same CD every morning we were there, it turns out. Charming turned to tolerable, which on the third day turned to something from which we were keen to escape. It was a useful method of training return customers to not linger over breakfast, whilst not offending the first-timers. Very clever.
The staff managed to stand by and be ready at a moment's notice without seeming to hover. Coffee was poured and plates were removed with grace. One one occasion I found myself unable to open the little pot of jam, and nor could Husband; it was the easiest thing in the world to look up and meet the eye of a helpful gentleman who came over and performed the service with quiet panache. None of this craning around and arm waving generally required to catch the attention of service people here.
Later Husband also was unable to defeat one of the little pots of honey, and so I suggested he should follow my example. But some combination of male pride and socialism forbade him from requesting assistance (I asked - he said it was a bit of both). I offered to do it; he refused, moved it out of my reach, and went honeyless. Some eyes were rolled. The next time this happened we were at a smaller table and I was determined that he would have his marmalade. This time I got my hands on the offending jar and was quite prepared to outsource the opening thereof, but I gave it a try first and rather to my surprise managed to open it myself. I quietly returned Husband's balls later when we were back in our room.
On one night we indulged in room service for dinner, and had decent sized serves of fresh and beautifully prepared but not ridiculously complicated food. We had a mains and two entrees for $65 I think, which I thought was pretty good value. I was caught a little by surprise when the food arrived a mere 10-15 minutes after ordering, as we'd been advised of a 35-40 minute wait. I'm sure the waiter has seen worse things in hotel service.
It must be said that accessibility was not high on the agenda - the main entrance off the street was up 4 or 5 steep stairs, and I imagine wheelchair access was probably around the back, through an alley, and maybe via the kitchens.
So, The Hotel Windsor Melbourne: if you can possibly manage it - go. I certainly mean to return if possible (please Wotif, be kind to me again) and this time get a look at the ballroom. They also do an elaborate High Tea which I imagine would be an experience and a half if the breakfast was any comparison, so if you can't manage a stay, try the High Tea at least.
The Windsor is 5 stars worth of 19th century charm and grace we would not normally get anywhere near, but I stumbled across a Wotif.com red hot deal for the days that we were staying. I'll never look at the words "breakfast included" the same ever again. I thought I'd done well securing a $750 room for $200 per night, but it wasn't until later I appreciated the sheer bliss of a $75 per head buffet breakfast. For free ;-)
Yes folks, we scored $2,700 worth of food and accommodation for 2 people for a grand total of $600. Am I gauche in celebrating this fact? Does it make me common? It certainly doesn't make me cool, but you know what? I don't
OK, I did make one concession and tried to dress a bit more nicely than usual when we checked in and went down for breakfasts. Ironically I used the iron in the hotel room far more often than I would have at home, but I didn't want to look like my usual mad cat lady self.
The room was long and narrow and had plenty of space. Actually there were three rooms - the main sleeping/lounge/dressing table/desk area, the bathroom with a decently sized bath, and a separate walk-in robe/dressing room/ironing/kitchen space. All the furniture was antique (ar at least pleasantly aged) wood. The bathroom was tiled not in marble as advertised, but some kind of ocean fossil jasper, but I'll forgive them ;-). I loved the carpet and the draperies. I did actually take and tweet photos of those but haven't downloaded them off my phone.
The mattress was glorious - firm and even, but with enough give for comfort. We were supplied with goosedown pillows which were softer than I'd normally like, but they folded and squished into any custom shape required, so I did not avail myself of the Pillow Menu. None of this "firm, medium or soft?" sorry excuse for a pillow menu I've met in other alleged 5 star hotels in Perth, oh no. This Pillow Menu had a selection of 9 types of pillows as lovingly described as haute cuisine, and printed on heavy embossed card. Later I was horrified to discover that Husband had souvenired it. I await the additional credit card charge with trepidation.
I spent quite a lot of our three days and nights in that room, but the fossil-bearing jasper in the bathroom kept me company while I soaked in the bath, and the carpet provided hours of entertainment as I lay on the bed.
When we checked in the concierge said it was a quiet room, and so the view was not over the main street but across a narrow alley to some apartments. At night we could hear bar noises through the bathroom window, but not noticeably in the main room. It was a bit weird to listen to people chat and laugh as I soaked in the bath completely nekkid. We heard tram bells pretty consistently but it's a reasonably low-pitched sound that didn't become too bothersome. Although I admit I could easily imagine the sound driving me postal in times of stress, pretty much anything can drive me postal at such times.
We were close to a housekeeping station so there was a bit of rattle and chat outside in the early to mid afternoon, but normal people are not usually in their rooms at such times. On a few occasions I heard the giggling progress of couples passing down the corridor taking the advice of strangers, it would seem, to get a room. I heard kids giggling and running down the hall just once or twice, and never acually saw a single child the whole three days we were there. So yes, quiet.
The Breakfast Buffet at the Windsor was an education. I didn't quite let caution to the wind, but I certainly allowed it to shoot the breeze. Bacon was high on my agenda, and I did have some the first morning, with divinely scrambled eggs and a rather naughty mushroom. But bacon was displaced on the second morning by my discovery of the smoked salmon. And why not, the wine glass of yoghurt and berries. And a little pastry for luck. Lunch did not figure largely in our plans.
One was entertained by a pleasant CD of elegant lobby-friendly piano music - nothing too fast or tinkly for the delicate morning ear, nor too slow and solemn to discourage one's awakenings. Jazz standards, basically, and a few movie and show tunes, and we happily identified them all. On the first morning we lingered while I let everything settle in to place and Husband read The Australian. They played the same CD every morning we were there, it turns out. Charming turned to tolerable, which on the third day turned to something from which we were keen to escape. It was a useful method of training return customers to not linger over breakfast, whilst not offending the first-timers. Very clever.
The staff managed to stand by and be ready at a moment's notice without seeming to hover. Coffee was poured and plates were removed with grace. One one occasion I found myself unable to open the little pot of jam, and nor could Husband; it was the easiest thing in the world to look up and meet the eye of a helpful gentleman who came over and performed the service with quiet panache. None of this craning around and arm waving generally required to catch the attention of service people here.
Later Husband also was unable to defeat one of the little pots of honey, and so I suggested he should follow my example. But some combination of male pride and socialism forbade him from requesting assistance (I asked - he said it was a bit of both). I offered to do it; he refused, moved it out of my reach, and went honeyless. Some eyes were rolled. The next time this happened we were at a smaller table and I was determined that he would have his marmalade. This time I got my hands on the offending jar and was quite prepared to outsource the opening thereof, but I gave it a try first and rather to my surprise managed to open it myself. I quietly returned Husband's balls later when we were back in our room.
On one night we indulged in room service for dinner, and had decent sized serves of fresh and beautifully prepared but not ridiculously complicated food. We had a mains and two entrees for $65 I think, which I thought was pretty good value. I was caught a little by surprise when the food arrived a mere 10-15 minutes after ordering, as we'd been advised of a 35-40 minute wait. I'm sure the waiter has seen worse things in hotel service.
It must be said that accessibility was not high on the agenda - the main entrance off the street was up 4 or 5 steep stairs, and I imagine wheelchair access was probably around the back, through an alley, and maybe via the kitchens.
So, The Hotel Windsor Melbourne: if you can possibly manage it - go. I certainly mean to return if possible (please Wotif, be kind to me again) and this time get a look at the ballroom. They also do an elaborate High Tea which I imagine would be an experience and a half if the breakfast was any comparison, so if you can't manage a stay, try the High Tea at least.
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Thanks for the reminder to check Wotif.
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So glad it was so awesome!