The Red House

The Red House lives up to its status as a class-apart address: it is a small palace, with a decor pushed to a point rarely seen in a house this size. Columns dressed in green and white zellige, finely carved stucco arches, chiselled wood ceilings, brass chandeliers, worked cedar doors. The common areas belong to the early 20th-century show house, in the spirit of the great Hivernage houses of the time. You come in to sleep, you stay to look at the walls. It is a stance, that of dense traditional decor, opposite to the white and minimalist riads that dominate the current fashion.

The house also has what many riads lack: air. A planted garden rings a pool, with a terrace for the sun, a rare luxury of space in town for an eight-room address. You take breakfast here, you breathe between two outings, off the crowd. Service, direct in a house this small, and the setting come top of the comments, on a review count solid for the scale. A Moroccan table rounds out the stay, and you can settle in or range out by taxi from Hivernage.

Two caveats deserve a word before booking. The first is the decor itself: it is dense, dense to dizziness, and lovers of contemporary bare elegance will find it crushing rather than sumptuous. It is a matter of taste, not quality. The second is the gap between spaces: as much as the sitting rooms and the courtyard are loaded with decor, the rooms, comfortable, stay more classic and plain, which can surprise after the entrance. Finally, like all of Hivernage, you are not in the medina: lane life and the souks are a trip away, not at the doorstep.

The Red House is enjoyed for what it is: a decor, an atmosphere, a small house that stages show-Morocco rather than standardised comfort. You come here for the eye and for the garden, not for a spa or the scale of a large hotel. On that very particular register, and at that rate, few Hivernage addresses offer as much to look at.