Perks of the job

Bev Fearis had already enjoyed the Four Seasons experience in the northern hemisphere, but would it be the same Down Under…

"In nearly 20 years as a travel journalist, I’ve been lucky enough to stay in a few Four Seasons hotels. The first was over 10 years ago at the Four Seasons Prague and I was with a relatively new boyfriend. It was the first time he’d accompanied me on a work trip and he was blown away by the service, especially when we returned from a day out and the porters addressed us personally. "Good evening Mrs Fearis," they said. "And Mr Fearis". Well, they nearly got it right.

A year or so later I had the chance to stay at the Four Seasons Provence (sadly no longer managed by Four Seasons), and took the same boyfriend, Warren (he deserves a name now – we’re still together). We still talk about those balmy afternoons spent sipping cocktails, lording it up in a kingsize poolside cabana, the staff bringing us ice cold towels and sun cream.

Now, more than 10 years on, we found ourselves in a taxi on our way to a third Four Seasons, this time a bit further from home. "Wait for the flurry when we pull in," said the taxi driver, obviously recognising we weren’t your regular Four Seasons guests. "They’ll be whisking your bags away and up to your room before you’ve even stepped out of the car." And, of course, he was right. 

The Four Seasons Sydney could not be better located in the city centre, less than a minute’s walk (if you time it right with the traffic lights) from Circular Quay, on the edge of the Rocks and at the slightly less busy end of its main business and shopping streets, Pitt and George.

The vast lobby is as glamorous as they come – a monumental staircase leading to the mezzanine level, giant glistening mosaic lights hanging from the ceiling, a grand piano and porters busy transporting Gucci bags. The arriving and departing guests were suitably glamorous too, although some were more casually dressed in baggy jeans, shades and baseball caps. There had been a big concert in Sydney the night before (the taxi driver had filled us in) and it seemed that most of the musicians and DJs had stayed here over night. I didn’t have time to see if I recognised any faces, as I was immediately beckoned to the heavily-manned reception. 

Check-in was completed in a flash and we were in the lift on the way to our room, which turned out to be a huge Full Harbour Junior Suite (570 sq.ft.to be precise), with spectacular views of the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. Warren was so blown away by the views, he almost forgot to tip the porter.

We only had one night so wanted to make sure we made the most of the facilities – pool, gym, room service. "Where’s the welcome book they usually have, with all the information?" asked Warren. We searched every desk, every drawer, and in the end I called reception. "Actually, Mrs Fearis, we don’t have welcome books anymore," came the polite reply. "You’ll find all the information on the television."

Now, I’m all for technological innovation, but I’ve always enjoyed lounging on the bed, leafing through the welcome book. It was the first small disappointment. The second (and there were only three, so let’s get them out of the way), was the temperature of the bath. I like my baths really hot, and this one was clearly set at a maximum temperature which wasn’t hot enough for me. On the plus side, it was lovely and deep and ran in super fast time. The third disappointment was the pool, which had the usual Four Seasons glamour (cabanas, luxurious sun beds, fluffy white towels) but was noisy due to the traffic. I guess there’s no way around it in a city centre hotel, other than moving it from level 3 to 33. 

On the plus side, our suite was immaculate and spacious enough that we could have happily stayed there all day, chilling out and enjoying the view. The kingsize bed was enormous and there were none of the usual fights for the duvet. The free wi-fi zipped like lightning. The mini-bar was well-stocked and as expensive as expected (AU$10 for a bottle of water) but turn-down came with a bottle of water anyway, which was a relief. The Appelles ‘Apothecary’ toiletries, made in Australia, were a nice touch and somehow ended up in my washbag on departure. The fitness centre had fab views so you didn’t need to watch CNN on the individual TV screens, and a fridge packed full of bottles of ice cold water. Service, as ever, was faultless.

After years of enjoying the perks of going out with a travel journalist, Warren has become a bit more blazé about staying in luxury hotels, but still reckons the Four Seasons experience is up there, and I have to agree."