Hotel Skt. Annæ

My infatuation with Vilhelm Hammershøi began as a young art student. I’d spend days in the studio making doll-size models of living rooms with subdued, meditative interiors; fashioning panels from fine strands of clay, carving desks and chairs from thin sheets of foam board, angling torches outside their tiny windows to test where the light hits. Hammershøi, for the uninitiated, was a 19th and 20th century Danish artist revered for his poetic oil paintings of sparse and muted interiors. Evidently, I’m a big fan. You can imagine my excitement, then, when checking into Hotel Skt. Annæ, a Hammershøi-inspired crash pad in Copenhagen’s nautical centre. 

It’s a balmy October afternoon when Mr Smith and I touch down in the city. We arrive at the hotel just in time to catch the last gasp of Scandinavian sunlight illuminating its tree-lined boulevard. Inside, an inviting living room beckons with a roaring fire, beamed ceilings and cosy sofas, where plumped-up pillows are arranged in a gradient of grey-to-brown taupe. 'I have always thought there was such beauty about a room even though there weren't any people in it, perhaps precisely when there weren't any,' wrote Hammershøi of his work. The unpeopled beauty of this particular room would have to remain just that, for now, as we were ushered to a room of our own.

By Copenhagen standards, our Medium Deluxe is ample, with more than enough space for the activities I’ve got planned; namely, parading my new Ganni purchases as Mr Smith looks on bewildered. What’s with the grandma collar? Are the trousers meant to jut out like that? As for the decor, it’s as if my miniature models had come to life, blown up to human scale in an Alice in Wonderland turn of events. Its minimal palette of low-key greys, creams and charcoal make quite a statement of the sultry, dark wood headboard. But it’s the artwork — quelle surprise! — that grabs my attention. Hammershøi-esque portraits hang throughout the hotel, referencing the dream-like atmosphere of the Danish artist’s work, with members of the owner’s family painted inside the scene. It seems that life here imitates art, or perhaps it's the other way around.

The hotel’s enviable location means we needn’t venture far to encounter the best of the city’s sights; within a half-mile radius you’ll find more galleries, shops, theatres, bars and restaurants than you could possibly get through in one weekend. Not that it stops us from trying. Our mission starts at Amalienborg Palace, the Rococo home of the Danish royal family, where well-turned-out guards in their bearskin caps patrol its grand courtyard. We wait a while in the hope they’ll break character, but alas, not a giggle nor a wink. Next, we snake through Nyhavn — the canalside stretch of colourful townhouses you’ll recognise from souvenir-shop postcards and travel magazines — and over the bridge to Broens street-food market. Here, we grab a beer and admire Cobe’s award-winning urban development across the water on Paper Island, a project that has breathed new life into a historically industrial part of the city. 

Back at the hotel, we round off the day by sharing plates of pumpkin ravioli and salted scallop at the hotel’s fish-forward restaurant, The Shrimp, and sipping espresso martinis from under a blanket on the street-side terrace. Hygge, indeed. We awake well-rested the following morning and make our way through the hotel’s central courtyard — a space akin to a greenhouse, replete with plants and bathed in light — for breakfast. The most important meal of the day is a rarity for Mr Smith and I, who usually make-do with a cereal bar as we scramble for the door. Not this time; we return from the buffet with piled-high plates of Continental cheeses, jam-slathered rye bread, fresh fruit and honey-drizzled bowls of granola. 

On the way out, we pause by a cosy nook in the courtyard, drawn to some wall text explaining the benches' origins. Crafted from upcycled harbour wood, their weathered surfaces tell a story of decades spent in saltwater, buffeted by ferries, a tribute to Copenhagen's maritime history. This focus on materiality sets the tone for our final day in the City of Spires. And after flicking through the Carl Hansen & Søn tomes in the lobby, I for one, am inspired. Strolling north through Kongens Nytorv, we approach the former Hotel du Nord, where Hans Christian Andersen boarded for the best part of a decade. Today, it’s better known as Magasin, a department store packed with big-deal Nordic designers — or, as we refer to it, a gateway drug. 

'We'll just cut through and take a look,' I say, naively. But before we know it we’re taking turns caressing the fluffy Tekla robes, schlepping Stine Goya dresses and jackets to the changing rooms by the truckload, and getting dizzy sniffing Byredo candles and Frama fragrances. Hammershøi might have painted empty rooms, but we intend to fill ours with top-tier Scandi delights. Needless to say, we left the hotel that afternoon with two bloated suitcases and the inevitability of an overweight-baggage charge. We consider it a learning curve; when we return to Hotel Skt. Annae, we'll have an extra suitcase in tow.