Are they pumping something through the vents of the old offices of Liverpool city council, or am I just used to aloof hotel receptionists down south?
The staff here, in one of the most architecturally dramatic buildings in the city ( Municipal was built for the council in the 1860s and is now a mega-budget luxury French-owned hotel), are on a seemingly constant high. They have every right to be: Liverpool has lots of cultural heritage, but it hasn’t been known for world-class luxury – until now.
I was shown to my room after a quick tour of the atrium, where a central bar has weirdly wonky-to-sit-on stools surrounding it, and the Seaforth restaurant is located.
Afternoon tea was in full swing. The most pointless of meals, in my opinion, but a fair few guests had booked in for it.
Various points of genuine architectural interest were identified: the 18 sandstone statues surrounding the building’s upper level and the Gothic revival clock tower (the bell was created by the same company that made the original Big Ben).
Then there were busts of liver birds and Queen Victoria in the ceiling cornices above the kind of stone stairwell that makes me shudder with vertigo, but its handsome brown ceramic tiling, which looked like wood at first, made me tingle with delight. This is a huge, brilliantly sinister building.
My room was fine, in the usual international Accor-orchestrated luxury-hotel kind of way. The bathroom had laminate marble-patterned bathroom tiles and blue herringbone ones as contrast above waist height. A faux-antique Bakelite telephone by the bed was the only reminder that this is a building with heritage.
I dumped my bags and went straight to the spa. Despite trying to book weeks in advance, none of the really tasty-sounding 100-minute spa treatments were available on the day I was visiting. All they had was a Timeless Collage Ritual or Pause in Time. Of the two 50-minute options, I went with the latter, as it combined back and scalp massage elements as well as a facial.
My therapist, Molly, had only been there for two weeks, but she was five-star fabulous. She has magic fingers and I’d book her specifically on a return visit. If I lived in Liverpool, I’d see her every month.
The spa reception and treatment rooms are all on a different floor from the pool, sauna, steam room and other thermal attractions, which is a bit annoying, but onto the good stuff: a 16m pool with two big massage jets. The pool has scores of loungers that you’d actually want to spend the whole afternoon on, and, on some afternoons, a floating gong bath takes place.
I loved the sufficiently powerful steam room and the “experience” shower, with different settings from cool mist to Californian beach and Atlantic Sea.
I was impressed with everything here – this is, hands down, one of the best hotel spas in the country . However, charging hotel guests £50 to access it (even just the pool) feels mean.
After a visit to the sauna and covering myself in ice, I dried off and went to the bar for a mezcal negroni and dinner. The aforementioned atrium is vast and glitzy, which rarely goes hand in hand with a quality kitchen, but here it does. Pan-seared scallops came with the richest black pudding. These two ingredients make for such good friends.
A confit duck leg was a hefty dish, perfectly cooked, with cavolo nero. Triple-cooked chips were good. Only a Thai crab risotto was a dud (impossibly salty). I imagine the steaks from the Josper grill sell well here; the vibe is supercharged date-night steakhouse.
Breakfast is usually also in Seaforth, but was served in an elegant private room down the hall on my visit, as Seaforth was being prepped for a private event. A slimmed-down version of what is usually a larger buffet was laid out and there was a little chaos with service.
Avocado with poached eggs drizzled with sriracha and sumac came to the table instead of the simple poached eggs on toast I wanted. “Sorry, I wanted just the…” – I was cut off. Exasperated, the waiter was on his toes, gone. I roared with laughter.
Another waiter appeared, apologising profusely and making it impossible to be annoyed by anything at all. The Municipal is a well-oiled, immense Victorian machine with lots of moving parts to attend to.
On the whole, it works brilliantly. It is, as the kids say, “a mood”. And a really good one at that.
Doubles from £150 , B&B. There are nine accessible rooms. Mark C O’Flaherty travelled as a guest of Avanti West Coast , which runs regular services between London and Liverpool from £23 one way.
Municipal Building, Dale St, Liverpool L2 2DH (0151 332 3030)
