The staycation has always struck me as a slightly suspicious concept. A holiday without the holiday. A vacation that asks you to stay within arm’s reach of your regular life and somehow return refreshed.
For years, I wasn’t buying it.
I have spent most of my adult life convinced that the further I travelled, the better the story. There is a particular thrill in exchanging your familiar world for someone else’s: new currencies, unfamiliar train systems, the panic of realising you’ve ordered dinner in a language you barely speak. A little bit of difficulty can feel romantic, right? And that makes at least my holiday guilt feel earned.
And yet, over the past year, I have found myself increasingly nourished by the staycation, a development that concerns me slightly. Once you’ve spent enough time dragging suitcases through airports and pretending four hours of sleep is part of the adventure, the appeal of a holiday that requires very little logistical suffering becomes difficult to ignore.
During Australian Fashion Week, I checked into Spicers Potts Point and reluctantly began reconsidering my position.
I’m from Melbourne. I live in a one-bedroom apartment in the inner north where every departure begins with carrying a suitcase down two flights of stairs while trying not to knock over a pot plant. Spicers, by contrast, occupies two grand Victorian terraces tucked among the leafy streets of Potts Point. The sandstone façade and wrought-iron balconies make it look less like a hotel and more like the sort of Sydney address you assume belongs to someone with a trust fund and a very good wine collection.
The moment I arrived, someone appeared to take my luggage. A small luxury, perhaps, but one that immediately shifts your understanding of how the next 24 hours might unfold. After a breezy flight from Melbourne, I was greeted by name and shown through a sprawling terrace suite overlooking a canopy of London plane trees. There was a freestanding bathtub, a rainfall shower and a writing desk positioned beside the window, as if somebody had anticipated exactly how I would spend an afternoon avoiding emails.