
Suite Spot: The Royce Hotel, Melbourne
A love letter to auto-inspired chrome and marble, St Kilda’s urban bolt hole hits the sweet spot between old-school glamour and modern pragmatism.
On St, Kilda road, where Melbourne rehearses its most European instincts, The Royce stands with the self-possession of a building that remembers what it once was. Long before it became a hotel, this address operated as the city’s Rolls-Royce showroom—a temple to polished metal, engineered perfection and the choreography of aspiration.
The cars are gone, but the sensibility remains. You feel it instantly. The chrome and marble are not decorative flourishes but historical callbacks. The ceilings soar with the assurance of a space designed to display objects of desire. Even the symmetry—the way sightlines extend, the way the staircase curves with a certain inevitability—suggests a past life devoted to spectacle.
Today, the spectacle is softer. The Royce trades horsepower for hospitality, but it has retained something of that original theatre: the idea that arrival should feel momentous.
My stay centred on a Boulevard Suite, overlooking St Kilda’s prestigious avenue. What impressed me most was not its scale but its practicality. It is unusually well-equipped for work: a proper desk, thoughtful lighting, and enough power points in the right places to avoid the usual hotel contortions. For someone who travels with deadlines in tow, it felt intelligently resolved rather than retrofitted.

Then there is the bed; plush without being sinkhole-soft, layered in a way that suggests deliberation. I am, by nature, an insomniac; hotel rooms often sharpen that condition. Here, I slept deeply—the sort of unbroken, almost decadent sleep that makes you question your own mythology. The bedding is not merely comfortable; it is corrective.
The bathroom matches the suite’s sense of calibrated indulgence. Once more, chrome and marble reprise the building’s automotive past, but in this context they read as ritualistic luxury: generous vanity space, a shower with conviction, a bath that invites lingering. It is a room designed not for efficiency but for decompression.

I didn’t use the separate living area during this visit, but I appreciated its presence. For couples, it would be invaluable—a space to engineer a little alone time, or to collapse onto the lounge and watch a late-night film. The balcony, meanwhile, provides a small but meaningful dialogue with the boulevard below: trams gliding past, plane trees framing the view, the city moving at a civilised pace.
Downstairs, the restaurant and bar lean fully into the building’s lineage. All that chrome and marble could easily tip into parody, but here it feels intentional—a contemporary gloss on 1930s glamour. The bar is imposing in the best sense, a monument to surface and sheen. It calls to mind the grand public rooms of established London hotels, only shinier and mercifully free of distracting art.
Dinner was solid rather than showy—executed without unnecessary flourish. Breakfast unfolds in a lighter courtyard setting, adjacent to The Terrace, offering a welcome tonal shift from the main dining room’s drama.
Location is part of the narrative. Across one street sits Melbourne Grammar School, which borders the calm expanse of the Royal Botanic Gardens Victoria—ideal for collecting one’s thoughts between appointments. In one direction, a long walk or short tram ride delivers you to Southbank—the National Gallery of Victoria, Flinders Street station, theatres and restaurants. In the other, ten minutes by car brings salt air and nostalgia at St Kilda Beach and Luna Park Melbourne.
But it is that former incarnation as a Rolls-Royce showroom that gives The Royce its edge. Many boutique hotels install character; this one inherits it. The building was conceived as a stage for machines synonymous with craftsmanship, discretion and status. Today, it performs a similar function—not for cars, but for the rituals of contemporary luxury: work conducted in quiet focus, sleep achieved against the odds, a drink taken beneath flattering light.
The Royce understands that luxury, at its most persuasive, is about engineering—not of engines, but of experience. In that sense, it has never truly changed its vocation.
This article appears in the Autumn issue 2026 of Robb Report Australia New-Zealand. Click here to subscribe.
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