Gorgeous George

Fresh off an 11-and-a-half hour red-eye from London Gatwick without a wink of sleep, Mr Smith and I are sprawled on a cobalt blue velvet sofa on Gorgeous George’s rooftop, complimentary arrival cocktails already sipped. We could be irritated and frazzled, but it’s hard not to be upbeat when Gigi's vibey Sunday brunch scene is kicking off around us and the staff are so warm and welcoming. 

This rooftop becomes somewhat of a base for us over the next 48 hours. It’s where we return after checking into our room, to lie on loungers on the small sun terrace and dip into the plunge pool to cool off. A local DJ is spinning records on the terrace as a mix of hotel guests and Cape Town residents sip cocktails and graze on late lunches. The buzzy atmosphere feels like we’ve stumbled upon the city’s best kept secret, where those in the know mingle. Normally one to rush out and explore as soon as I arrive somewhere new, I’m very content to just sip my cocktail (classic concoctions are available, but their signature options are delicious) and soak up my surroundings. It’s a hot day, so the dipping pool is much welcomed; I bob around in the glistening water, drifting inside a stone portico adorned with water-lily murals for shade. There are only six loungers on this residents-only nook of the terrace, which isn’t an issue in April but could be a waking-at-dawn scenario in the heat of the summer. 

We head back up to the rooftop for dinner that evening. Mr Smith tries samp for the first time (a traditional South African staple made from crushed corn kernels, cooked in a similar way to rice), served alongside juicy slow-cooked lamb. I’m pleasantly surprised to be spoilt for choice with vegetarian options, also opting to begin our trip with local flavours, choosing a chickpea and lentil Cape Malay curry. Both dishes are delicious, as is the local wine we sip as we eat. Bellies pleasantly full, we retreat to our room for an early night. 

We’re staying in one of Gorgeous George’s one-bed suites, which has an industrial aesthetic that isn’t overly stylised. Only the two-bed suites boast bath tubs, but I’m happy with the large walk-in shower in our striking black-and-white bathroom. Six-foot tall Mr Smith is especially pleased with the king-size, extra-length bed, where we both sink off into a much-needed restful sleep. A separate lounge area to the bedroom means that when I wake early, I can sneak off and open the curtains wide in the other room, reading my book while he slumbers. I have an in-room massage booked that morning – the hotel doesn’t have a spa but can arrange for therapists to call by your room. I enjoy a relaxing massage to soothe my aching body after the long flight, almost drifting off to sleep.

I’m always excited to see what a hotel breakfast entails — as a vegetarian who doesn’t eat eggs, I’m often disappointed. Gigi gets off to a great start by offering a variety of juices and smoothies; I choose the ‘green supreme’ (apple, celery, cucumber and ginger) to set me up for the day, followed by a very delicious avocado on toast. Mr Smith keeps things simple with a yoghurt, granola and fresh fruit bowl, although tempted by the Town fry-up. We choose to dine indoors this time, seated at a table adorned with what appear to be Delft tiles. I look a little closer and realise they’re actually by the same local artist who created the utterly beautiful tiled map of the city centre displayed behind the reception desk downstairs, Lucie de Moyencourt. The illustrations on each tile are specific to the hotel and its surroundings: Table Mountain, a penguin, a sun-bathing woman Mr Smith points out could be me…

I’m keen to head out and explore the city, but also a little apprehensive. The very friendly doormen reassure me it’s perfectly fine to wander around during the day, encouraging me to pop around the corner to Greenmarket Square to browse locally crafted art and clothing. St George’s Mall, where the hotel is located, is a leafy, pedestrianised street that is illuminated at night with twinkling lights strung between the trees. As it is strongly encouraged to take taxis after dark, the doormen are always lingering outside the front door to greet you, taking away any worries. 

After a busy day taking in the local sights, I pause for a moment to admire the hotel’s façade before stepping back inside. Gorgeous George is housed within two distinct adjoining buildings, one art deco, the other Edwardian. From the inside, I haven’t quite worked out where one starts and the other begins, but from the threshold of the front door, you can appreciate the differences in the architecture. We’re warmly greeted when we return, offered fruit from the brimming bowl on the reception desk and engaged in a conversation about our day and plans for that evening. This is a recurrent theme throughout our stay – everyone wants to chat, and seems especially thrilled when we tell them we’re from Manchester (English football is huge over here). 

We’re heading out for dinner that night, but don’t want to miss our last opportunity to hang out on the rooftop. We head upstairs as dusk falls, making our way to the terrace beside the pool where sunloungers have been cleverly transformed into benches for the evening. ‘Hello Gorgeous’ neon lights are illuminated on the back wall, and woven hanging baskets gently rock from the pergola. Candlesticks dripping in several months’ worth of wax glow on the tabletops, casting an ambient, flickering light. It’s hard to tear ourselves away, but, alas, we have a dinner reservation on the other side of the city.

Returning after our meal, we’re once again welcomed with open arms (literally, a swift hug) from one of the doormen before taking the lift up to our suite. Our time at Gorgeous George has been brief, but it has been the most perfect introduction to Cape Town.