GALWAY GLAMOUR
Galway Glamour - Luxury Travel Magazine
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Galway Glamour | |||||
| By: Merry Kirkwood, Issue 27 – Winter 2006 | |||||
| (The g - Co Galway,
Ireland) | |||||
| IRELAND’S THE g HOTEL MIXES SERIOUS LUXURY, BOLD COLOUR AND WITTY HOME-GROWN CHUTZPAH. | |||||
| “For a lad that designs hats, she’s a grand hotel, to be sure,” says our driver, Harry, as we catch a glimpse of Galway’s latest hotel – the glamorous and gregarious g (yes, lowercase). Not that ‘our man’ is concerned about the g’s outlandish style. To Harry this brand-spanking 100-room and suite glass and steel hotel façade, is a fresh landmark to share with the customers. Created with stop-you-in-your-tracks vision by Philip Treacy (milliner to the rich and famous, including the Duchess of Cornwall, and recent guest at Sydney’s Emirates Autumn Derby Day, where he judged fashion in the fields) this is a travel tale of local ‘lads’ come good. Fellow local Gerry Barrett of Galway based Edward Holdings, who own the niche Monogram Hotels of which the g is a flagship property, first got Treacy involved in the project. And what a stir the local lads have created. Whisked inside from the no-nonsense driveway sitting on Dublin Road, with expansive waters views over Lough Atalia and Galway Bay, (a short hop from Galway airport in Ireland’s western reaches), the hotel reception is a study in black. Black walls (black glass, no less), black Venetian plaster ceilings, a dotting of scented candles, and young energetic staff whose uniforms de noir (you guessed it) complete the scene nicely, thank you very much. But before I can be shown to my suite, three colourful design features jump at me from the monochromatic welcoming space. The first, a neon sign sitting high on the reception wall visible to passers-by, claims cheekily: ‘This Must Be The Place’ in loud fluoro. A call-to-action, a marvelous play on words, and a bit of fun shouted from one small display. I glimpse the wall opposite where an aquarium brimming with highly coloured coral also houses a collection of sea-horses, and introduces a marine theme – paying homage to the coastal setting – repeated throughout the hotel. And last, but not least, I nearly stumble over a playful collection of plaster dogs, frozen on duty overlooking the fun and folly of it all. My line of sight moves from the dark entrance to the grand cerise corridor; part catwalk, part ‘Alice-through-the-Looking- Glass’ with its long carpet runner leading guests past each of the public areas, finishing at the entrance to the hotel’s signature restaurant Santini at the g. Here form and function compete in a cosy yet busy space, full of out-sized scalloped banquettes and jelly-bean coloured fabric chairs. The food, Italian by nature, is delicate in presentation and generous in flavour. (On the night we dine, the service is positively theatrical; with teams of sharply dressed staff serving in well rehearsed pairs. Overall, the experience is whimsical and exciting; but by breakfast time, the mood and pace has slowed to regulation five star serene). Like kids in a candy store, my partner and I wander down the vibrant pink ‘path’, heads turning as we take in the expansive rooms that sit to our left. First the Grand Salon with its fabulous light display, then the aptly named Pink Salon, full of a sense of 1950s style glamour (with its touches of black and white offset by the use of an Andy Warhol camouflage fabric), past the decidedly more masculine Blue Lounge and Cocktail Bar, and a couple more steps before reaching the 70- seater restaurant. The child in me resists the urge to touch and stare, mouth agape at the boldness of it all. I feel comfortable that (for now at least), the hotel is full of fellow guests and visitors doing the same thing. Even our driver admits to a look-see: ‘just so I know what the lads are up to’ he assures, with a smile that belies a smidgen of home-baked pride. My favourite space: the double-height Grand Salon. Perhaps it’s the grand sandstone fireplaces at both ends, the soothing oyster and silver tones, the traditional French styling amid all the glamour, the peace of the double-storey view to the lough and parklands beyond, or possibly, all of this mixed together and lit by a mesmerizing Tom Dixon display. Two hundred- odd mirror balls of light, suspended from the ceiling throw drama into this restful space. Opened only late in 2005 (and with a smatter of finishing touches still unraveling in early March this year), the g is not only a hot topic of conversation in the lively pubs of nearby Quay street, but is making ripples with those ‘in the know’ around the globe. ‘Everyone who is anyone’ has heard about it, or so it’s seems. Night-Time at the g is escape from the loud purple corridors that lead to the soft silvery bedrooms, warmed by gas fireplaces and the feather-soft Italian white linen of the comfy beds. Bath-Time is a joy from the depth of a Villeroy and Bosch bath where generous bottles of spa products beg lengthy indulgence. The g extends all the necessary pleasures expected in a five star hotel: in-room bar and safe, flat screen TV, a gym, and health and beauty services. While the hotel has gone out of its way to be zany, bold, bright and certainly beautiful, it will not be to everyone’s taste, as one elderly lady reminds me with her tongue-in-cheek in the hall: ‘Doesn’t it all feel a little claustrophobic to you?’ In reality it has surpassed my expectations. But Spa-Time is a fantasy story unto itself with ESPA at the g. ‘Come early for your appointment’ the voice reminds, but I delay at my peril. The pre-spa experience is not your regular ‘change into your robe and sip on a herb-tea’ garden- variety dalliance. This is Power Spaing at its best. Set in a two level space, ESPA at the g is made up of three elements: a pre-treatment pool and wet area, a relaxation area, and the treatment rooms themselves. For nearly an hour I move around the vitality pool and its accoutrements. An eerily dark space, the jets of water soothe and invigorate as I float weightlessly. Next I wander into the rock sauna, steam room, under the lifestyle showers (where sounds and aromas evoke a sense of being in the rainforest – all of this before my wonderful massage treatment. Bliss. Which ultimately begs a question: what makes a modern hotel great after all? In the case of the g it’s more than a place to rest your head while abroad. Part art gallery, part show pony, part hotel, and part place to meet, share a laugh, a drink and enjoy a meal. For my money, the g is pure energy, designed to entertain; a hotel experience that changes with your mood and lifts you beyond yourself in glamorous ‘g-like’ style. Is once-sleepy Galway ready for such wit and splendour? Time will tell, but early bookings for big events are strong and many of the locals are right behind ‘these Irish lads’. For my money, there’s nothing quite like it. Take a peep for yourself. | |||||
| Details: | |||||
| The g: www.theghotel.ie | |||||
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