Brach Madrid

Being a small-business owner and a mother of three (two humans and one adorable but very needy puppy), I don’t always find it easy to get away. So when I managed to carve out 48 hours of quality time with my husband, the mission was clear: a fabulous hotel, within a two-hour flight from London, and minimal faff. And there’s only one trusty resource I ever turn to for that: Mr & Mrs Smith. For almost a decade now, it has been the reason behind virtually every successful holiday or cheeky escape I’ve managed to pull off.

So when someone from the team mentioned Madrid, it was an instant yes. A short flight, on the right side of the Movida, and the bonus of two great friends living out there I hadn’t seen enough of this year. The hotel of choice? Brach Madrid. Recently opened and designed by Philippe Starck in his 2.0 era (more cosy wood and plush seating than his original white-and-minimal paintbrush), it looked like the perfect mix of alpha-meets-gamma — meeting both my high standards for comfort and detail, and my husband’s more architectural, design-obsessed criteria.

Flying into Madrid is already a pleasure, and possibly the only place my architect husband was happy to take photos of me — though let’s be honest, he was probably just excited to get Richard Rogers’ wavy airport creation in the background.

Within half an hour, we were at Brach’s doorstep, smack in the middle of the city centre. This might be a turn-off for some, but when you’ve only got 48 hours, being able to walk everywhere (and walk we did) is a massive win. Two enormous glazed flower pots by the entrance instantly brought a smile to my face — nothing says 'Mediterranean dream' like a giant terracotta situation.

I was intrigued to discover that the lobby wasn’t on the ground floor like most hotels, but tucked away on a cosy landing upstairs — freeing up the street level for more exciting things. Such as: a delicious Levantine meets Spanish fusion restaurant and bar. And to the left: an incredibly pretty, jewellery-box-sized French pâtisserie. Sadly, as a coeliac, I could only indulge with my eyes (and nose). If I could have had something, it would’ve been that butter madeleine practically whispering my name from behind the glass.

The staff were genuinely friendly — not just trained-to-smile friendly. The kind of friendly that makes you feel like you’re being welcomed by a long-lost cousin with excellent taste. Big grins, warm energy and genuinely excited when they found out it was my birthday. It reminded me how joyful it is to be greeted that way — like you really matter.

We were taken up to the sixth floor and shown to our balcony suite, named Ernesto. From the moment we walked in, I was already impressed, starting with our own guest bathroom. Yes, a whole extra loo. Which, if you’re even remotely familiar with how romantic weekends can sometimes require space and separate sinks, you’ll know is a game-changer.

Our suite felt more like a sexy Spanish New Yorker’s bachelor pad than a hotel room. Slick, spacious and clearly designed to make you not want to leave. Through the entry corridor was a split-level living space with two designer sofas, and a cluster of stylish coffee tables stacked with architecture, fashion and design books — just casually styled as if they were your own. The walls featured curated photos, quirky art, a ukulele and even a pair of boxing gloves. Suddenly, that guest bathroom made perfect sense. This isn’t just a hotel room — it’s the hotel room you wish you lived and entertained in. It’s the hotel room of the life you almost had before school runs and picking up your puppy’s mess.

And what do you need when entertaining in your own hotel suite? A bar, of course. Not just any bar — probably the best-stocked one I’ve ever seen. I counted at least 30 bottles of spirits (no exaggeration), twinkling glassware, plus a little wooden chopping board and the perfect lemon-lime slicing knife. At 6pm, we learned we could call down for fresh ice. 

Behind discreet wooden sliding doors was our super-king-size bed, tucked into a cosy alcove, and beyond that, a luxurious marble-floored bathroom complete with a deep tub, double sinks, a massive rainfall shower and a separate loo. Now — let’s talk about that toilet. Within minutes of arriving, my husband called out in glee: 'It’s got a built-in bidet!' Like he’d just discovered electricity. And let me tell you, this wasn’t your average bum-squirter. This was a full-on, hi-tech, remote-controlled spa experience for your undercarriage. We’re talking adjustable angles. Heated water. Variable pressure. It was the gadget of the weekend. Honestly, even if you don’t stay the night — go to Brach for the fancy toilet alone. 

After a good night’s sleep — and of course, having our friends over for a nightcap — I made use of the Le Capsule spa. Hidden away on the lower ground floor is a maze of billowy white curtains. Suddenly, I felt like I’d left New York and landed in an Ibizan or Mexican retreat. Behind the curtains: treatment rooms, futuristic equipment including a floatation tank and an oxygen chamber, an ice bath, steam room, sauna and a slimline pool. I indulged in a slow morning swim, followed by a beautiful facial using My Blend products, which left me feeling positively reborn. This is definitely the life I want — but don’t quite have (yet).

When we checked out 48 hours later, I was genuinely sad. Not only was I leaving behind one of the most 'at-home' hotels I’ve ever stayed in, but also the life I wish I had. One with a fully equipped spa, hi-tech bum-bliss and a French pâtisserie downstairs whispering 'treat yourself' every morning.