The Travel Critic

Remember when hotels had reception desks? A little counter where a stiff-faced concierge handed you your key card, and you might awkwardly ask them where the lift was, even though it’s clearly signposted? Well, that’s history now. First, it was trendy for hotels to ditch the front desk entirely, replacing it with a vibe where someone in jeans and a hoodie might appear, ghost-like, as you stepped through the door.

Now, we’ve arrived at this: check-in at the bar. Enter The Moxy Manchester, where your welcome isn’t a polite nod but an invitation to grab a cocktail. I sort of like it, though I couldn’t help but feel like the uncool uncle as everyone else was ordering drinks, and I was sheepishly asking if they had wireless chargers in the rooms (I forgot mine, of course). They don’t, by the way—but, in a small miracle of hospitality, the kind receptionist lent me hers, as if I wasn’t already out of place enough.

The rooms are exactly what you’d expect from a hotel trying very hard to be trendy without saying it out loud. Minimalist, sharp, everything neatly in its place. There’s a bed—exceptionally comfortable, in fact—a shower that does exactly what it should, and a table which, much like the rest of the room, is functional but cool in that industrial, slightly-too-cool-to-care way. No clutter, no fuss. Just the essentials. If you’re the type who likes a clean, comfortable hotel without the frills or the fuss, then you’ll love The Moxy.

It’s a great option. As long as you don’t mind feeling like the only person in the room who didn’t show up for the party.