From Edinburgh to Glasgow, with House of Gods
Adam Spawton-Rice reports from his Scottish odyssey.
Written by Adam Spawton-Rice
House of Gods, Edinburgh: Neon Fringe Splendour
Stepping out of the bright chaos of a Fringe Festival morning and into House of Gods felt immediately naughty – a place where excess isn't just celebrated; it's expected. A self-proclaimed "playground of excess," this hotel sits in the heart of Edinburgh, on Cowgate, offering a heady mix of history and hedonism.
During our late-night, boozy stay at the Fringe, their attentive staff made sure we felt more than just welcomed, no matter the hour. We dipped in and out, grabbing a cocktail on entry and/or exit and skipped back off for more shows.
Our room, styled like an Orient Express cabin felt like something straight out of a noir thriller. The corridors are so dim, I half expect a trench-coated detective to emerge from the shadows. The darkness definitely adds to the excitement. Our room was home to a grand, utterly indulgent four-poster bed. The lighting in the bed’s canopy felt a touch Crimes-of-Passion.
For those seeking a naughty weekend, this is your spot. Other guests' mix of collective revelry and secrecy suggested anniversaries and secret weekend getaways. It’s a hotel that flirts with you.
Hungry? Rock-star room service has you covered. Late night milk and cookies at the push of a button, and breakfast hamper (the bagels!) that arrived with quiet fanfare to not one but three slightly worse-for-wear guests.
House of Gods, Glasgow: Campy, vampy & foodie
We moved west to catch up with friends and pushed the boat out a bit more.
Glasgow’s House of Gods, is on a grander scale, in a beautiful old building the Merchant Quarter of Glasgow. A different beast, but no less decadent. Two bars, this time with a similar boudoir atmosphere.
Expensive wallpaper, wood panelling, and hand-painted walls are a riot for the senses, glitzy and hand painted. The toddler in me wants to touch it.
The "Treat Me Like a Rockstar" package, meant again a cocktail greeted our slightly shaky hands on arrival. House of Gods Prosecco on ice waiting for us in the room. We head up to our room and throw ourselves at the bed with abandon (the ‘rockstar’ balloons, though a tiny bit kids-party, make this bit a lot of fun).
In Glasgow we’re staying in the Presidential suite, the same huge four-poster bed as its Edinburgh counterpart, complete with a risqué red glow. The Suite itself, with impressive wood panelling feels unapologetically loud, despite the dark wood. As well as two showers in the beautiful marble bathroom, it boasts a big copper bath – the kind that calls for a two-seater, soak with a drink in hand.
But it’s not just about the rooms. House of Gods is a place to hang out. The rooftop bar, with its wrap around balcony and glass ceiling offers a breath of fresh air before or after a night of indulgence.
By now we’ve got favourites, but consult the glossy cocktail menu - just in case we’ve missed out. We met friends in the upstairs restaurant, sharing a selection of reasonably priced but delicious small plates. Between us we manage to amass a tab almost as impressive as the decor. Old Fashioneds, house prosecco, Espresso Martinis – £50 a head and not a penny regretted.
Luxury isn’t confined to the spaces themselves either, wherever you go, you’ll catch their signature scent, a custom creation by the owner Mike himself. It’s the final touch in a smirking, knowing extravagance that makes House of Gods a place where you don’t just want to stay – you want to be in on whatever naughty joke Mike is making. And I want that gold disco ball too.
Verdict
Both Edinburgh and Glasgow House of Gods embody a philosophy where more is more, and beige is blasphemy.
Whether you're looking for a film noir fantasy or a sprawling cocktail-fuelled evening with friends, these hotels offer unapologetic extravagance at every turn.
They might not be for the faint of heart, but for those who revel in the extraordinary, they deliver a dual experience that’s hard to forget.
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