The Hoxton, Dublin

Dublin has its own unique brand of glamour. This windy, wild city is the terrain of urbane writers and folk-singing romantics, with a pub for every kind of person and new cobblestoned streets to get lost down every time you visit. When I land from drab London, it feels like I’ve been jolted awake from a slumber. Everyone in the city centre is champing at the bit for a good time, shaking off the doldrums of the working week and well on their way to a weekend to (foggily) remember. 

And what better place for Mr Smith and I to situate ourselves than the thick of the action? The Hoxton, Dublin, has been planted right in the middle of the city as a hub of activity and excitement, every corner of its rabbit-warren-like interior offering some new way to while away some time. In many ways, it’s been the beating heart of the city’s nightlife for ever — this grand Victorian building, on lively Exchequer Street, used to be Dublin’s famed Central Hotel, a beloved hangout for locals and tourists alike for more than a century. 

When we roll up, it’s clear that it’s still being put to good use as a meeting place. The lobby is a hive of activity, with patrons enjoying ceviche in Cantina Valentina, the hotel’s flagship restaurant, or working their way into afternoon cocktails at the adjacent lobby bar. It takes a beat for the staff at reception to co-ordinate our check-in, but the wait is nothing that a couple of iced coffees from Dollars, the hotel’s New York-style deli counter, can’t fix in the meantime. The mood is endearingly laidback — a good omen, we think, for what we’re hoping will be a loosely planned weekend of hanging out in a city that seems to be built for just that.

It appears the hotel has that in mind for you, too. Our room is comfortable and remarkably quiet, given how busy the street below is, and designed for decompressing after a few hours out on the town or a good lie-in after a big night. Dark wooden floors and muted wallpaper give the space a homey feel, although maybe I’m just wishing my home was more like this (especially the vast rain shower in the bathroom). The space is just furnished enough: the goal isn’t the kind of luxury that makes you want to spend your whole weekend inside, which would be borderline criminal, given everything that waits on the hotel’s doorstep. 

After a moment to reset, Mr Smith and I decide to wander around Dublin’s Creative Quarter, which sits right outside The Hoxton. I’d heard rumours that the city is home to a thriving designer-vintage scene, and I was not disappointed. Just metres from the hotel is Loot, an incredible trove of Nineties and Y2K clothes, stuffed to the gills with everything from eye-popping Etro shirts to nylon Prada bags in every shade imaginable. After trying on what feels like everything in the menswear section upstairs, our thirst is unbearable, so we stop by Grogan’s, an iconic pub just a few steps away. With its low ceilings and convivial booths, it’s the perfect place to reward ourselves with a Guinness and a toastie for being such dedicated shoppers. The afternoon is still young, and a visit afterwards to the nearby Tola Vintage, another buzzy secondhand-designer spot, makes sure our wallets are even slimmer when we leave. 

When we return to The Hoxton, the mood has gone from one of cheery buzz to something altogether sleeker and more moody, in the best way. Although it’s tempting to just lie on the bed for a while, Mr Smith and I head to the hotel’s Library Bar, where whiskey and oysters in the plush, serene nook set us up nicely for an evening out with friends. First up is an enormous dinner at M&L, a Szechuan restaurant on Cathedral Street, followed by drinks at Corrigans, a pub between the well-appointed neighbourhoods of Ranelagh and Rathmines that’s the perfect unfussy location for a rowdy chat. 

Naturally the next morning, there’s not much to be done except nurse a well-earned hangover at Cantina Valentina, whose comforting breakfast of eggs, fruit and strong coffee easily washes away any memory of one beer too many the night before. If that’s not enough, the sun and bustle outside are already calling our names, beckoning us to rifle through the cluttered bookshops in Temple Bar or take a walk to the Irish Museum of Modern Art. For now, though, it might be time for another quick kip in that gigantic bed — before another long, dreamy day of getting lost in Dublin.