Hotel Julien

Having spent the afternoon wandering around Antwerp's furniture and design stores, my brain was already dangerously close to renovation mode. Mr Smith had long stopped pretending to be interested in my running commentary about stone finishes, vintage lighting and whether a particular chair from local treasure St Vincents would fit into our Brooklyn apartment. Then we arrived at Hotel Julien and, unfortunately for him, the commentary intensified.

Hidden among the winding streets of Antwerp's historic centre, Hotel Julien occupies two restored townhouses that have evolved over time. I later learned that when the owners wanted to expand, one neighbouring property stubbornly remained off the market. Rather than abandoning their plans, they built around it, wrapping the hotel around the holdout home and creating a layout that feels delightfully organic. The result is a property that unfolds in unexpected ways, feeling less like a planned hotel and more like a place that has always belonged exactly as it is.

The moment we stepped inside, the pace of the city softened. Antwerp is one of my favorite European cities: creative, cultured and quietly confident. Hotel Julien captures that same spirit. There is no grand arrival sequence or theatrical lobby. Instead, guests are welcomed into a series of beautifully considered spaces that feel more like the home of an exceptionally stylish friend than a hotel.

Belgian designers Bea Mombaers and Peter Ivens have struck an almost impossible balance between heritage and contemporary living. Original architectural details, including beautifully preserved ceilings that quietly remind you of the building's history, remain intact; and contemporary furnishings, architectural lighting and natural materials create spaces that feel entirely relevant today. It's never precious, never overly designed. It's just right. And perhaps most importantly, it feels lived in.

Throughout the property, there are endless places to pause. Deep sofas invite lingering conversations around the fireplace. Quiet corners encourage a second cup of tea or an extra glass of wine. Intimate nooks seem designed specifically for reconnecting with whoever you've travelled with. In an era where many hotels prioritise being photographed, Hotel Julien prioritises being enjoyed.

Our Experience room (number 11) sat at the very top of the building and quickly became one of my favourite hotel rooms in recent memory. Every inch had been thoughtfully utilised, transforming what could have been an awkward attic space into something both practical and charming. Sloping ceilings framed a series of windows, each offering a completely different perspective across Antwerp's old town. One looked across rooftops, another towards church spires, and another captured fragments of the city's architectural layers.

As someone on the more petite side, I found the room perfectly scaled. Mr Smith, meanwhile, at well over six-feet tall, developed a slightly more intimate relationship with the pitched ceilings, collecting a couple of gentle-reminder bumps during our stay.

Back downstairs, a peaceful internal courtyard sits at the heart of the hotel. Water gently trickles through the space, creating exactly the sort of soundtrack wellness apps would do their best to replicate. From here, the bells of Sint-Carolus Borromeuskerk punctuate the day, their sound drifting across the rooftops and into the courtyard below. It feels quintessentially Antwerp: historic, atmospheric and wonderfully unhurried.

One of my favourite touches came courtesy of the concierge. After asking for a few of his personal suggestions, he gave us a handwritten list of local restaurant recommendations. In an age of QR codes and generic city guides, the simple act of receiving a piece of paper covered in hand-picked favourites was unexpectedly charming.

His advice led us to Cobra, a neighbourhood restaurant tucked beside Nectar, a coffee shop we return to on each visit to Antwerp (pleasingly, staff have begun greeting us with knowing smiles). Only towards the end of our stay did we discover that Nectar wasn't, as we'd confidently assumed, an Antwerp institution at all — it's French. Whether mistaking Flemish Antwerp for a corner of Paris counts as a cultural faux pas, I'm still not entirely sure. Either way, the matcha was exceptional and the view across the square spoke to my soul: a steady choreography of bicycles, trams, pedestrians and cars somehow weaving together in perfect harmony as the city moved through its daily rhythm.

The hotel's spa sits at the opposite end of the sensory spectrum. Tucked away in the basement, it feels almost womb-like. Cocooned beneath centuries-old buildings, the spa encourages complete retreat from the outside world. Cell service is equally elusive, meaning that for the first time on this trip my phone became little more than an expensive clock and I wasn't mad about it. After wandering Antwerp's cobbled streets and galleries, descending into its warm, hushed atmosphere was the perfect way to end the day.

By the end of our stay, I found myself doing what I always do when I fall for a hotel: mentally rearranging my life so I could justify staying a little longer. Another night in Room 11. Another morning listening to church bells drift across the courtyard. Another pot of tea in the breakfast nook. Another recommendation from the concierge's handwritten list.

Antwerp may have been the reason for our trip, but Hotel Julien became one of the reasons we'll return.