Jnane Rumi, Marrakech, hotel review: 'The most talked about opening this year — and for good reason'
The Moroccan capital of Marrakech is the world capital of hotels, says Christopher Wallace — and Jnane Rumi is the latest string to its hospitality bow.
There is a case to be made that Marrakech, Morocco, is the world capital of hotels. From boutique riads in the Medina to adobe estates in the desert, the variety and quality is probably unmatched anywhere. Five of my favourite hotels in the whole world are here — and more are popping up all the time.
Easily the most talked about opening this year is the brand-new Jnane Rumi — and for good reason. Or several reasons. I am still, many weeks after my visit, haunted by the hotel’s signature scent, a clear oud (blended with secret spices). I have been craving the marvellous meals I had at tile tables by the pool, shaded by bougainvillea and nodding palm fronds. In fact, the grounds — with a grassy garden dotted with cane chairs and tasselled umbrellas that feels like the set for an enchanted Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, a stony olive grove and a fire pit — probably do not get mentioned enough. That is because the interiors have immediately become a source of obsession online.
If, from the outside, the structure seems to follow classical, rational design (albeit with petrol-blue terracotta-tiled roofs), the décor within each room feels original, site specific and inspired. In my bedroom, a mustard-coloured wall seemed to swoop down, Dalí-like, to a fireplace, where a cherubic marble Don Quixote on his horse sat on the chimneypiece. On the far wall, an antique carved wood lintel shrouded a reading nook and the cathedral-domed skylight made the bathroom look like a Roman emperor’s. It was dazzling — as, I imagine, are all the other, totally different suites.
The cozy communal sitting room seemed at first more sedate, but, on closer examination, kept revealing delightful details, from the tapestry (of, perhaps, weight-lifting Egyptian Pharaohs) by French-born artist Louis Barthé-lemy to the well-chosen collections of books piled here and there. Ditto the Rumi bar, a pink-walled snug with a monumental brass chandelier pendant that scattered soft light on deep cushioned chairs. Yet even as I say that and try to describe the smells and the sights, I seem to get further away from the finger-snapping fizzing feeling of the place.
I wish I could sit down at the corner table outside and tell you more about it. Perhaps over a sizzling seafood tagine or some of the hotel’s spectacular Moroccan wines. Meet you there?
Rooms at Jnane Rumi from €500 a night (00 212 666 208 767)
This feature originally appeared in the July 2, 2025, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe
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Christopher Wallace is a writer and photographer. His biography of the late photographer Peter Beard, ‘Twentieth-Century Man: The Wild Life of Peter Beard’, was published by Ecco press. Before going freelance, Wallace was the US Editor of Mr Porter and the Executive Editor of Interview Magazine. His writing has appeared in the New York Times, The Paris Review, and on Substack, among others. Chris was born and raised in Los Angeles and once upon a time made a few short films that won some awards at festivals. Longer ago than that, even, he played college football, before eventually quitting the team to write poetry. He still makes similarly poor career decisions — his words, not ours.
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