You’d miss the five-star Blythswood Square hotel if you didn’t know where it was. Barely any signs make note of its existence on the pristine green of the same name in the centre of Glasgow. In fact I nearly stroll straight past, with rackety wheelie bag in tow, but happen to look to my left just as I pass by the steps that lead up to the Georgian building’s entrance. Like a private members’ club for those who are truly in the know, the Blythswood has merely a shiny slate tile to the right of the door on which its name is engraved.
Once inside, everything changes. There’s no more meekness. No more hiding away. No, just pure decadence, elegance and charm. As I enter, I am overwhelmed by it all. Soaring, Greek pillars topped with gold leafing ensconce a divine hallway with square, black and white marble motif, while a heavily draped chandelier and a stunning gold and black marble sweeping staircase pull my eye in a 180 degree swoop. It’s like I’ve died and gone to Art Deco heaven.
While many people may not link Glasgow with prestige – preferring instead to visit its shinier, castle-topped neighbour, Edinburgh – the Blythswood is proof that this town is on the up. The hotel opened in 2009, having undergone a major renovation after being the home of the Royal Scottish Automobile Club since 1926. A part of The Town House Collection, which also includes the five-star Bonham Hotel in Edinburgh, Blythswood Square is also home to a gloriously sumptuous, award-winning cocktail bar, Glasgow’s first luxury spa and a high-end restaurant.
After I get over my Art Deco heart palpitations, I check-in and am led along the tricky route to my room by a staff member, turning corner after corner out of the lift. My room overlooks an inner courtyard and is wonderfully spacious. The theme is charcoal grey and crisp white, with more marble accents. Interestingly, the designers took an open-plan approach, with only a half wall separating the plush, expansive raised bed and a marble-laden bathroom with plunging bathtub and stretching countertop. The toilet and shower are separated by a door, luckily, so any fears for sharing too much with one’s partner can be assuaged.
As I’ve been booked in for an afternoon spa appointment, I take a few minutes to enjoy a cup of coffee and some chocolates laid-out for my arrival and change into fluffy bathrobe and slippers. I pad out into the hallway – checking first to make sure no passers-by will witness my attire – and head to the basement spa. I’ve opted for the ila Rainforest Renewal facial, which I’ve read involves slathering my face with collagen-rich plant ingredients from the Brazilian Amazon rainforest and massaging them in a way that will help drain my lymphatic nodes. In short, it promises to clear away toxins, which – given I spend much of my life reviewing and drinking whisky – sounds beneficial.
Upon arrival, I’m led down a dark wooden hallway strewn with candles to the treatment room, which is equally shrouded in dimness to create a peaceful space away from the noise and bustling I know is going on a couple of floors above us. The softly spoken therapist invites me to lie down before proceeding to turn my face brown with muddy, earthy smelling paste. As she begins the ‘lymphatic massage’ I realise I may have too many toxins to get out of my system: I soon feel waves of nausea and dizziness hit me. Presuming it is just my body feeling sad to let go of any remnants of whisky imbibed the night before, I say nothing for the first few minutes until I find it too overwhelming to continue. Luckily, a few large gulps of freezing cold water assist and I soon find myself able to relax into the detoxifying regime, which continues for another 40 minutes. Feeling fully cleansed and supplely smooth, I head back to my room to get ready for the evening, keeping watch for any other guests who might take shock at my pink and still mud-dotted face and matter hair.
After a luxurious bath and cup of green tea, I finish getting ready and head down to the bar to meet my local friend Nicola, who has agreed to be my plus-one for the evening. As another drinks writer, she is familiar with the genius of the bartenders at the Blythswood bar and we each opt for cocktails from the heaving menu – hers a dirty martini, mine a grapefruit and gin heavy Salon. During our catch-up I also learn that, while the Blythswood is luxurious now, the neighbourhood surrounding it was not always so. According to Nicola, each room facing the Square was designed with a red light in its window as a nod to the fact Blythswood Square used to be the haunt of “working girls” even up until a few years back. And sure enough – once I’ve been told this – I note red fringed, boudoir-style lamps in every window I pass that faces the Square, including in the bar and the downstairs restaurant.
Cocktails finished, we head to the early evening light-bathed restaurant and are shown a cosy corner table. The setting is lively for a Wednesday, with many tables full of chattering guests enjoying their meals in the expansive setting, which was the former ballroom for the Royal Scottish Automobile Club. We opt for the three-course Market Menu and are generally pleased throughout. My ham hock terrine is a tad rich, but a smoky kick and spiced coleslaw freshen things up, while my main of sea bass is perfectly cooked with crispy edges on the fish and just the right contrast between the salty sea hit of samphire and the sweeter Asian-inspired floral and citric lemongrass jus. Nicola’s main of chicken breast with Jerusalem artichokes is beautifully presented while her pudding of treacle banana bread with candied walnuts is moist and moreish. The only let downs are the cured haddock starter, which is so heavily salted as to be overpowering, and the slightly sweaty cheddar and warm grapes I’m served in place of pudding. Still, with the bright spring evening light shining in and the friendly service, it’s hard to be too bothered by the minimal imperfections. Having filled our bellies, we opt to partake in a few digestifs outside of the hotel at a nearby famous whisky bar – the Pot Still, a big recommendation if you’re in Glasgow and keen on your drams – and, a couple of hours later, I find myself tucked up in bed fully satiated.
The next morning, with slightly heavy head, I make my way to the restaurant for breakfast. A large table is laid out like a Parisian market: baskets of bread, patisserie and bowls of fruit sit on red and white checkerboard cloths. On a nearby table, all the ingredients to concoct a Bloody Mary nearly tempt me into imbibing the hair of the dog. Instead, keeping in mind the previous day’s detox, I opt for mounds of fresh fruit and a bowl of porridge, with only a dash of whisky on it; I am in Scotland after all.
The Blythswood Square hotel, I decide over my first meal of the day, is a little haven in the centre of Glasgow. With its nods to the charm of both the building’s past incarnation and the area’s more risqué history, it recognises the previous decades but is thoroughly modern. I have little doubt it will charm anyone visiting this Scottish city, so long as they can find it.
