Como the Treasury

We arrive in Perth after a week savouring the delights of Margaret River – heavenly wineries, white sand beaches, dreamy forest walks and way too much SSB (as we have learnt to call sauvignon semillon blanc). It's been a brilliant, sun-buffed dance with nature but Mrs Smith, a thoroughly urban girl, feels it's now time to get back to the joy of buzzy streets, glistening shops, fired-up people and rooftop-bar cocktails.

Our return to city slickerdom couldn't be sweeter. We dump the hire car and jump in a London-style black cab – apparently there's some 50 of them in this most isolated of cities. It whizzes us to the entrance of Como The Treasury, a haughty-looking pile that forms part of the State Buildings, a monumental ensemble from the 1890s that originally housed the General Post Office, Treasury and Lands and Titles offices. You can't get more central than this – literally, as this is the ‘point zero’ from which all distances in Western Australia are measured.

Ah, civilisation! Como's hotels and resorts are renowned for their sophisticated, soul-soothing style, and this one – the collection's debut in Australia – is cool, confident and calming. Check-in formalities amount to little more than a smartly-dressed butler arriving with two very welcome glasses of chilled Taittinger. ‘The bush is all very well,’ Mrs Smith sighs, ‘but I think this is where we belong.’

Rising to four floors, the Treasury sat vacant for 20 years before Fremantle-born starchitect Kerry Hill set about transforming this august home for bean-counters and penny-pinchers into an immaculate minimalist temple, complete with original vault doors, ornate plasterwork and restored jarrah wood floors. Every one of the 48 rooms and suites is different and generally composed of two former offices – one now the bedroom, one the bathroom – which means it all feels whoppingly grand.

This is January, the height of summer in the sunniest city in Australia, so this Mr Smith has taken a punt on a smaller third-floor Heritage Balcony room – which proves a masterstroke. On arrival we throw open the French doors to find a sweet terrace furnished with two cosy chairs and a table. It's the sort of commanding position from where, after a few beers from the complimentary minibar, one might make a lordly speech to the good citizens of Perth.

One part of the State Buildings used to house a cell block, and it is ironic that we are now so very happy to be incarcerated here. Our room is a vast, peaceful box of creamy woods and heated travertine stone, softened with lined white dressing gowns and blissful Egyptian cotton sheets. When we eventually venture out, this fusion of three heritage buildings proves quite a puzzle. The hotel's sleek 20m indoor pool and fitness centre are well worth the convoluted journey, but allow a fortnight to find the library. Meanwhile, down in the depths somewhere, lies the spacious and gracious Como Shambhala Urban Escape. Mrs Smith can't resist and checks in for a Sodashi thermal infusing facial with a hand and foot massage.

Further treats await in the central Post Office Hall which is now given over to shiny lifestyle emporia that include a chocolatier, fine tea specialist, florist, jeweller and purveyor of gourmet hampers.  

Breakfast is served in Post, which used to be the franking room, and offers a forked road to the healthy or the indulgent. We favour the latter, going down in style with some zucchini rosti with smoked salmon, dill and lemon-scented cottage cheese. Later in the day one might sink craft ales in the Petition Beer Corner or nibble Thai street food at David Thompson's Long Chim, but our dinner choice is Wildflower, an elegant restaurant and terrace bar set in a glass box on the top floor. And how Perth likes to dress up at night – from up here there's a superb view of the city's buildings festooned with coloured lights.

Mrs Smith loves the Aboriginal-inspired seasonal cuisine of exec chef Jed Gerrard, and we're particularly impressed by some crab with daikon and lime, and an ambrosial reinvention of cauliflower cheese.

The next day, well fed and well slept, I have some work to do before meeting Mrs Smith for lunch – leaving her free to gad about with the help of a map and some tips from the concierge. His best advice? Make use of the free colour-coded CAT buses that circle Downtown, and take at look at the Perth Mint.

‘It's really well done,’ Mrs Smith reports, ‘and tells the story of how the city got rich. There's gold absolutely everywhere and a great little gift shop…’

‘I was tempted,’ Mrs Smith continues. ‘There was a very gorgeous bracelet in pink and white diamonds for just 26,000 dollars... But instead I bought you THIS.’

The shiny gold magnet shaped like a bullion bar I unwrap now sits proudly on the fridge door back at Smith Towers, an apt memento of our happy nights in an exquisite hotel that is – without doubt – a treasure to visit.