I stayed at The Richardson Hotel & Spa in Perth twice. First on a work trip in 2016. Then again for a weekend in 2017. Both times, it felt like a small, quiet world tucked off a busy street. And you know what? I still think about it when I pass that part of town.
(If you’d like the blow-by-blow recap—complete with photos and room details—you can find my full review here.)
Quick note before I jump in. The hotel is now closed. The building is used for aged care now. If you're curious about the circumstances around the closure, hotel industry news site Hotel Management covered it in detail. But folks still ask me what it was like. So here’s my honest take, with real moments that stuck.
Where it sits (and why that matters)
The hotel sat on a quiet street in West Perth, near Hay Street. It was a short walk to Kings Park. Travelers who want to stay within strolling distance of Kings Park can compare current hotels in the area on Tripadvisor. I loved that. One morning I woke before my alarm, laced up my running shoes, and jogged up to the park. The air felt cool, and the light was gold. Perth has that clean, wide-sky feel. The wind had a bit of the “Fremantle Doctor” in it, so the run felt easy.
Back at the hotel, I grabbed a flat white from a small cafe on Hay Street and took it to my balcony. No traffic noise, just the hum of a day starting. It’s funny how a quiet street can lower your shoulders.
Uber to the CBD took about 7 minutes for me, sometimes less. Northbridge for dinner? Around 10 to 12. Valet was fast when I had a hire car. That part saved me on a tight schedule.
The suite felt like a small apartment
Here’s the thing: the rooms were more like suites. Mine had a living room with a small sofa, a desk that actually fit my laptop and notebook, and a bedroom that closed off with a door. I’m picky about doors. Work stuff stays out of the bedroom. Sleep wins.
There was a little kitchenette with a pod coffee machine, a tiny sink, and plates. Not a full kitchen, but enough. I made toast and brewed coffee before an early call. It was simple and warm and made me feel less like a guest and more like a person who knows where the light switches are.
The bed was firm but not hard. Two pillows, one soft, one a bit higher, which helped my neck. Blackout curtains did their job. I slept like a rock before a big meeting, which rarely happens for me.
The bathroom had a deep tub and a separate shower. Hot water came fast, and the water pressure was strong. The bath salts smelled faintly floral. After a long flight, that first soak felt like a reset.
Was the decor modern? Not really. Even back then, it leaned classic. Cream tones, dark wood, clean lines. It felt grown-up but not stiff. I’ll take calm over flashy most days.
Service with a real smile, not a plastic one
On my first stay, I arrived late and hungry. The front desk had this warm, old-school style. Not fake cheerful. Just kind. The concierge walked me through room service hours, circled a few local spots on a little map, and handed me a umbrella because the sky looked moody. I still remember that umbrella. It rained. I didn’t get wet. Small thing, big mood shift.
I also forgot my plug adapter. Front desk had one. They just handed it over and said, “Bring it back whenever.” No fuss. Another time I asked if they could print a few slides before a meeting. They had them ready at 7:10 a.m., clipped, with a simple cover sheet. My P&L brain sighed with relief.
Turn-down service left a tiny chocolate and fresh water on the nightstand. I know it’s old-school. I like old-school when it helps me breathe.
Food: rich and careful, with a gentle pace
The hotel’s fine dining spot, Opus, was a French-leaning space with white tablecloths and soft light. I had dinner there once and breakfast twice. Dinner felt slow in a good way. The fish was local and tender. The sauce had that deep butter note that makes you go quiet for a minute. The server didn’t hover. They checked in at good times. That balance is rare.
Breakfast downstairs was calm. Sourdough toast, eggs done right, grilled tomatoes, a pot of tea. Nothing wild. Everything warm and steady. On Sunday, I lingered with the paper longer than I planned. That says a lot about the room and the staff. No rush in their faces.
Spa and pool: small, but they work
I booked a 60-minute massage at the spa after my flight. Eucalyptus oil, steady pressure, and a therapist who didn’t chat too much—bless her. The spa wasn’t huge, but it was clean and quiet. The indoor pool was heated and long enough for short laps. The gym was simple: a few machines, free weights, towels stacked neat. I felt human again.
One note: the pool hall had a faint chlorine smell at times. Not harsh. Just there.
What I loved
- The balcony. Morning light, a book, and coffee. I felt unrushed.
- The suite layout. I could spread out my notes and still shut the door and sleep.
- The walk to Kings Park. That easy green space is a perk you can feel in your bones.
- Turn-down with water and a tiny sweet. Comfort on a tray.
- Staff who solve small problems fast. Adapter, prints, umbrella—done.
What bugged me a bit
- Decor felt dated even then. Not shabby—just classic leaning old.
- Room service was pricey. Tasty, but I winced at the bill once.
- Light switches took a minute to learn. I flicked the wrong one more than once.
- Views were city-facing for me, not river or grand park. It was fine, just not wow.
- The pool area could smell like chlorine, depending on the time.
Who it suits
If you like calm over flash, this was your spot. Business folks who need space to think—yes. Couples who want quiet, a bath, and a slow dinner—also yes. If you wanted nightlife at your door, you had to go to Northbridge or the CBD. That was part of the deal.
Prefer your calm getaway in the U.S.? I had a similarly mellow, service-first experience at The Dove Inn in Golden, Colorado—my candid notes on that stay are here.
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A small story from my second stay
I spilled coffee on the carpet while trying to answer a call and zip a bag at the same time. Classic me. Housekeeping came up fast, waved off my apology, and cleaned it in under five minutes. No eye roll. No upsell. Just help. I remember feeling weirdly cared for. Funny how that sticks.
Practical bits I noted back then
- Free Wi-Fi that didn’t drop on video calls.
- Valet parking ran smooth during peak times.
- Taxis were easy to call, but I just used Uber most days.
- Ask for a higher floor if you like more light. It helped my mood.
So, would I stay again?
If it were still open? Yes. It was a gentle place with real service. Not flashy. Not loud. Just steady. I got work done. I slept well. I ate well. That’s a win in my book.
One last update
The Richardson Hotel Perth is closed now. The building serves a different purpose and isn’t taking guests. If you want a similar calm feel in Perth today, I’d look at a small luxury spot in the CBD for service and quiet rooms, or a design-forward hotel near West Perth if you want that same easy walk to the park. For travelers who appreciate contemporary design balanced with warm service, The Hotel Modern offers a comparable sense of quiet sophistication.
I still pass the old spot and think of that morning run, that quiet balcony, and that helpful