Hotel Motto Vienna Review: A Love Letter to Good Design

How Not to Arrive

Staying in beautiful hotels is good for your health. I’ve always believed this, and Hotel Motto in Vienna did nothing to convince me otherwise.

I should tell you how I arrived, because it matters. My sister and I had booked a 6am flight from Heathrow, which would have been a perfectly reasonable decision had either of us slept properly in the two nights prior. We hadn’t. By the time we landed in Vienna, we were collectively running on about three hours sleep.

Check-in wasn’t until 3pm, which gave us six hours to explore a city we’d never visited before, on no sleep. We landed on one of those confusing spring days where you genuinely cannot decide between a coat and a t-shirt or a jacket and a jumper. The city was figuring itself out. So were we. We did well, all things considered. I crashed completely that first evening, but that’s a story for later.

The way I travel, the hotel is never just accommodation. It’s the centrepiece that everything else flows from. Get the hotel right and the whole trip lifts. Which is why, when the Uber pulled up outside Hotel Motto and I stepped out at my entirely average height of 5ft3, I didn’t immediately realise what I was looking at.

It wasn’t until I crossed the street and looked back that it hit me. The building is expansive and classically beautiful, a wedge-shaped structure dating back to the 17th century, sitting a few minutes from Vienna’s historic city centre in the 6th district. Gründerzeit architecture on the outside, all rich ornamentation, stucco facades, and a mansard roof. If that means nothing to you, just know it looked beautifully grand when you stood back and looked up.

Stepping through the entrance was like stepping through the wardrobe in the C.S. Lewis novel. Modern automatic doors, then a heavy velvet curtain, and then you’re through into something else entirely. Artsy, Parisian, a little speakeasy-like. The reception staff offer wine, juice, and water from the mirrored bar just behind the desk, and a bellhop-and-cheetah mural watches over the whole thing with quiet amusement. It was a gentle introduction to what the rest of the hotel had in store.

We had dropped our luggage at the hotel first thing and freshened up in the lobby bathrooms before heading out to explore. By 2.30pm, we were done. Physically, emotionally, in every sense. We had wrung everything we had out of those six hours and there was simply nothing left. We came back, checked in, and surrendered.

A Small French Home

The journey to the suite was an experience in itself. The staircase is a showpiece, restored railings and steps that make you want to take the long way round just to walk past it. We didn’t, we took the lift, which turned out to be its own small joy. Brass, art-deco, with an arrow above the doors that physically moves to indicate where the lift car is.

I stood watching it travel down toward us with a disproportionate amount of pleasure. Then dark tiled hallways, massive green doors, double height ceilings, and finally, our suite.

It was like walking into a small French home that had been styled within an inch of its life, in the best possible way. Powder pink walls, parquet floors, the darkest brown metalwork, pendant glass lamps, rugs and chairs in soft pinks and two-tone blues, and expansive French windows. The wardrobe, toilet, and kitchenette doors were covered in a beautiful fabric, a lush chinoiserie print of long-tailed birds and blossom. The same fabric, we noticed later, that the staff were wearing as uniform. How creatively cohesive.

The bathroom was enclosed in metalwork and glass, visible from the suite itself, which sounds like it should feel exposed but didn’t at all. The detail that won me over completely: curtains. Full, beautiful curtains that you could draw from inside the bathroom for privacy, or leave open and let the space blur softly into the rest of the suite.

It was such a considered use of fabric in a space where most hotels wouldn’t think to use it. For someone who studied Textile Art, I was taking notes. The whole hotel had this relationship with fabric that felt genuinely creative rather than decorative, from the chinoiserie doors to the staff uniforms to those curtains. It added up to something.

Inside, a standalone bath sat at the window overlooking the local shopping high street, wooden cabinetry, brass faucets, and a walk-in rain shower room that felt almost sculptural.

The dining table seated four. A sofa bed sat beneath the television for the times you want to watch something without committing to full horizontal. I have strong feelings about hotel rooms that only contain a bed. A room should give you options. Rooms that are just a bed feel unfinished, like a teenager’s university dormroom. I like somewhere to land that isn’t the same place I sleep.

There was also a small bar and cocktail kit tucked into the suite. I noticed it a beat too late. Had I realised beforehand, I would have packed a bottle of DÒDÒ Plantain Rum and made something entirely suited to the surroundings. Next time.

The chandelier, the ceiling height, the kitchenette we actually used, the sense that every corner had been considered. I said to my sister that all studio flats should look like this. Reasonable in size, big enough to feel generous, small enough to feel like somewhere rather than nowhere. It may be one of the best suites I’ve stayed in. And I’ve stayed in a few.

Small Amenities, Big Consequences

Something I’ve noticed across the boutique hotels I’ve stayed in over the last few years: the amenities are fewer, but they’re almost always more considered. A smaller guest base means a more intentional investment in communal spaces, and crucially, it means those spaces rarely feel overcrowded.

There’s something about knowing a sauna has a booking system, or that only a handful of other guests are likely to be using it at any given time, that makes you actually want to use it. At larger hotels, I’ve walked past perfectly good facilities for days without setting foot in them. At Hotel Motto, I was in the wellness area within hours of arriving.

In my less than sleep-sober state, I decided I wanted to make the most of the stay. The wellness space itself was small and beautifully done: a treadmill, a bike, a bench and weights, one wall entirely mirrored so there was absolutely nowhere to hide. Through a windowed wall, much like the one separating the bathroom in the suite, was a separate relaxation room.

The space had been thought about with the same care as the rest of the hotel. Three chaise longues, each with a side table and a lamp whose shade finished in soft pink frills, mirroring the same detail found in the suite. The colour palette here was quieter and more deliberately restful: deep green panelling on the lower half of the walls, vintage style sheer curtains softening the incoming light and casting gentle patterns across the surfaces they touched.

Parquet flooring carried through from the suite before giving way to beautiful tiling at the entrance to the sauna and steam room. A small but considered transition. A station with water, glasses, and little jars of dates, banana chips, and mixed nuts sat waiting. The kind of things you actually want after a sauna. Someone had thought about this properly.

The chaise longues turned out to be some of the most comfortable seats I encountered anywhere on the trip. I’m convinced the cylindrical cushions supporting my lower back were directly responsible for what happened next. What I had not properly accounted for was that I was running on three hours of sleep after a full day of walking around a new city. My sister had already sensibly christened the sofa bed with a nap. I had not.

The sauna has a small window sitting above the logs and steam, letting light into what would otherwise be a very dark room. Someone thought about that too. Fifteen minutes in and I was done. I walked to the nearest chaise longue with a glass of water and a handful of dates, opened my book, and was asleep within minutes. I was woken by a couple arriving to use the sauna and decided, with some dignity, that I should probably return to the room before I spent the entire night there. My sister had been wondering where I was. I showered, put on my pyjamas, and got into bed. It was somewhere between six and seven in the evening.

She woke me up for dinner, which was sensible of her. One small note on Hotel Motto: there is no room service, which genuinely surprised me. It’s something I’ve come to expect from boutique hotels, having been spoiled by places like Hotel Valldemossa in Mallorca, who managed to deliver to a completely separate building in the rain without complaint.

My sister went to the bar at Chez Bernard, was kept company by the barman while she ordered, and came back with food for us to share. I apparently ate half a burger and some chips, half asleep at the dining table. I vaguely remember this. I’m taking her word for it.

That was our first night at Hotel Motto.

Chez Bernard, Three Times

Between the tourist sites and the eating, which in Vienna are equally non-negotiable, there was one place we kept returning to. Chez Bernard, Hotel Motto‘s rooftop restaurant and a Bib Gourmand in the Michelin Guide, turned out to be one of the best decisions we made. We made it three times.

Our first proper visit came at breakfast the following morning. We already knew the restaurant was beautiful from the night before, but seeing it in daylight was something else. The ceiling alone is worth arriving early for: triangular and diamond-shaped windows that catch the light at angles you wouldn’t expect, filling the room with something that shifts as the morning moves.

Below it, greenery and foliage cascade from above the bar, which sits at the centre of everything. The overall feeling is upscale and considered, but relaxed enough that you don’t feel like you’re performing.

The breakfast menu leans fresh and generous. I ordered the red shakshuka, my sister the sourdough toast with poached eggs, avocado, and bacon. All the bread on the menu comes from their own bakery, Motto Brot, which we’ll get to shortly. Both arrived beautifully. We should have stopped there.

The waiter suggested dessert, which, after a full breakfast, we agreed to with very little resistance. We ordered the French toast and the crepe and split both, which felt entirely reasonable at the time on the basis that sharing two things is technically only one each. I preferred the French toast. I had ordered the crepe. My sister had the opposite problem. We were too full to finish either. The waiter looked at our plates and said, simply, “my job is done.” He was not wrong.

We came back on our last night for dinner. The room shifts after dark in the best way, candles lit, music from a DJ kept low enough that you can still talk, the whole thing taking on a slightly more intimate quality. A genuinely lovely date night location, for the record. I had the quiche, light and exactly right. My sister had the coq au vin rouge and was very pleased with herself. I had a mojito at the bar that I’d specifically requested be made sweet, and it was. Chez Bernard earns its Bib Gourmand designation, and I’d go back without hesitation.

The Bakery Beneath

On our last proper morning in Vienna, knowing the next day would begin at an hour that shouldn’t exist, we skipped the Chez Bernard breakfast and went to find Motto Brot instead.

It sits nestled beneath the hotel, small and perfectly formed, French-inspired Viennese in the same spirit as everything else at Hotel Motto. There’s an outdoor seating area, which felt exactly right for a spring morning in Europe. Inside, an array of organically made breads and pastries, hot drinks, and a smell that does most of the convincing before you’ve even looked at the menu.

I had an almond croissant and a vanilla oat milk latte. My sister, a pain au chocolat and a latte. I’ve had almond croissants in the UK and they’ve never particularly moved me. This one, freshly made that morning, was a different experience entirely. It’s a small thing, but it’s the kind of small thing that stays with you.

If a full Chez Bernard breakfast feels like more than you need, or you’re heading straight out to explore and want something to carry with you, Motto Brot is exactly the right answer.

What Vienna Does to You

Vienna rewards the kind of travel where you put your phone away and take wrong turns. The city pulls you into quiet courtyards and past buildings that make you stop mid-sentence, which is either wonderful or inconvenient depending on how far you still have to walk.

Hotel Motto makes all of this easy. The metro station sits almost directly beneath the hotel, a few steps to the right of the entrance, which meant getting out each morning and getting back at the end of a long day was entirely painless. The 6th district location puts you close enough to Vienna’s historic centre to reach everything quickly, and far enough from it to actually breathe.

We wandered through the Schönbrunn Gardens and Palace, visited the National Library, and one evening attended a light show at one of the churches based on Genesis. Quietly one of the most memorable things we did. The kind of experience you find when you’re staying somewhere well-located enough to wander without a plan.

The food deserves its own article and it will get one. What I can say here is that coming back to Hotel Motto at the end of each day made everything better. A hotel that feels like somewhere rather than just somewhere to sleep changes the quality of the whole trip. This one did.

Go. But Sleep First.

We came back to Hotel Motto each evening feeling like we were returning somewhere, not just checking back in. The suite didn’t feel like sharing a small room with my sister so much as having a slumber party in an apartment with someone who has known me the longest out of anyone I know.

Would I go back? Without question. I’d just advise against arriving borderline deranged, so that you can actually sit in the restaurant and enjoy it properly on the first night. Learn from me. This hotel is for people who are as intentional about where they stay as what they do on a trip. It especially rewards those who appreciate great design and considered interiors.

That said, it’s genuinely for anyone. It’s dog friendly, and we spotted a couple checking in with theirs. Families are welcome too, though Chez Bernard’s menu skews more towards the adult end of the table, something to factor in if your children aren’t yet on speaking terms with coq au vin.

On the subject of eating: do it at the hotel, at the very least for one breakfast and dinner. Chez Bernard is worth your evenings. On the mornings when you want something lighter, or simply want to start the day differently, walk around to Motto Brot instead. Then go for a walk around the neighbourhood with no particular plan.

Take a few wrong turns. Vienna rewards this. You’ll find yourself in quiet courtyards, past boutique shops, and through cafe after cafe, because Vienna is, above all else, cafe central. Make full use of that.

Vienna, we’re not done with you. Next time, we’re staying longer, eating more, and finally making it to the opera. I may also be travelling with different company. Alexa, play “Where Is My Husband” by Raye.

Planning Your Stay

Rooms at Hotel Motto Vienna start from €162 per night, with Junior Suites from €246 per night. The hotel is located in Vienna’s 6th district, just steps from Neubaugasse (U3) metro station. For more information or to book your stay, visit Hotel Motto Vienna.

Editorial Note: Deborah wore the Silk Charmeuse Pinstripe Shirt and High-Waisted Wide Leg Dense Silk Pants by LilySilk. Both pieces were gifted for editorial consideration.

Writer & Photographer

Deborah Kombe is a London-based writer and photographer crafting immersive stories and visual narratives that explore culture, travel and lifestyle.

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