Her untimely passing at the end of its construction has imbued Onderdorp with special meaning. Relaxed, comfortable and eclectically stylish, Gail Behr’s final project could not be a more fitting memorial to this much-loved hotelier.

“Our Queen is dead. Long live our Queen.” The announcement on @dorphotel of the unexpected death of its creator was a hammer to the heart for her followers. Gail Behr, the maverick hotelier who worked with fabrics and plants like artists do with paint, an impresario who conjured up a theatre-like experience on the terraced garden carved into Signal Hill, was gone.

Gail was extraordinary. A hotelier who never really wanted guests – “cluttering the pink floral sofas with their turquoise bunny jackets” – she reluctantly opened her compound of Georgian-inspired buildings at the end of 2019. No-one could believe it hadn’t been there forever, that she designed and built it from scratch within a few years, using doors and windows purloined from demolition sites to breathe centuries into new structures. Gail had a talent for mixing the grand with the unpretentious, and an English sensibility for contrasting fabrics. Too homely to be called a hotel, too grand to be called a home, this was just how Gail wanted to live: with cut glass tumblers, large candles, great art and piles of books. In spaces that exude authentic character. With a doorman at the door.

READ MORE: Dorp Hotel

Like Dorp, Onderdorp defies easy categorisation. Conceived as an entirely self-sufficient wing, it stretches the length of the block below Dorp: a small collection of warren-like buildings behind a fortress-like wall of white. And like Dorp, it feels like a clever renovation of existing buildings, rather than purpose-built. Fifteen rooms, ranging from studio-style pods to mini-apartments, share three plunge-sized pools, a central games room and the Palm House. The latter is the proverbial hearth, with a demonstration kitchen – made homely with art, books, a fireplace – and an adjacent dining room. Sash windows frame Table Mountain, and several narrow French doors open onto a veranda shaded by rattan blinds. The bedrooms, either white or painted a distinctive dusky pink, are comfortably womb-like; beds, raised high enough for you to store your luggage underneath, are layered with fabric and flanked by brass lamps and books. Every room has a kitchenette of sorts; the larger feature a separate kitchen, anchored by a vintage table. Gail’s wit is evident throughout: “Check Your Privilege” stencilled above a Madonna surrounded by pots; the “Witness Protection Room”; a photo of Putin stuck above the dartboard. Images of Madonna and Child are everywhere.

“She envisaged this as a safe place for abused nuns,” says Ryan Findlay, Gail’s assistant manager and creative sounding board, smiling at the absurd notion. We are under a ’70s-style scalloped and fringed umbrella – a pop of yellow against the white exterior. It marks the entrance to the reception/shop, where a whimsical glass-fronted lift takes you up to Gail’s clothing shop. Ryan compares Gail’s design sensibility to that of a film director. “She had such a singularly strong vision. She’d bring in carpenters, builders, gardeners, designers and draughtsmen, and make them produce what was in her head. She was entirely in control, from bathroom to balustrade. It wasn’t the most cost-efficient way to build. And it was a massive undertaking, at any age.” When Gail died, aged 70, the exterior – with shaded verandas bookended by large concrete pots and pavers surrounding palms – was almost done. Melissa van Hoogstraten, Dorp’s gardener, is digging in two more palms, soil-smudged hands rearranging pots filled with “mother-in-law’s tongue”, as Gail instructed.

“Gail was a legend, but also a kind of contradiction. She spent every day working at Onderdorp. Like Dorp, it was a place where she cocooned herself, creating a deeply personal private haven. But she knew it was also a theatre, a place that required an audience. And that real success is when – having done all you can, and put the right people in place – the show carries on, without you.”

Looking for more architecture inspiration? Sign up to our weekly newsletter, here.

The post Bo-Kaap Hotel appeared first on Visi.

Nestled just below the Noon Gun, with majestic views of the Mother city, is a hotel with an old soul. The Dorp Hotel has also just expanded – you can look out for the new addition, Onderdorp, in our next issue.

A woman ambles over to our table to say hi, then wanders off again. She’s wearing her pyjamas and still looks a little sleepy.“She arrived to stay for a few days and never left,” confides a smiling Gail Behr, owner and proprietor of Dorp hotel. It’s a little vignette that’s entirely fitting given the establishment’s character. It doesn’t feel like a hotel… You walk in through the front door, pass a small entrance hall, and enter a large drawing room. There’s a New Orleansy feel to it. Muted avocado walls, big dusty-pink sofas, old brown tables piled with books, large green plants and soft 1920s jazz occupy the large double-volume space.

It looks established. Venerable. Comfortable. “It’s the funniest place. I don’t know what Dorp is,” observes Gail tacitly, explaining her guest’s relaxed demeanour. “It’s not really a hotel. Maybe it’s a club.” And she would know what she’s talking about – Gail was the original owner of Plettenberg Bay’s celebrated The Grand Café and Rooms.

READ MORE: Bo-Kaap Home

What it really feels like is her home – a big, rambling old mansion that welcomes her friends to enjoy its easygoing charm and breathtaking views of Table Mountain.There’s a gravitas and a soul to this property that one usually only feels in an old building that, over time, has grown and moulded around its occupants.

Except it’s not that either. Situated high above the Bo-Kaap, just below the Noon Gun at the very end of Signal Hill, Dorp is brand new, built from the ground up on the footprint of the old Noon Gun Tea Room – an unoccupied site that had long fallen into disrepair.

Just how Gail and her team managed to do that – create a 30-roomed hotel with the character of an established property – is the real story. And yes, that’s also hard to pin down. For one thing, it didn’t involve architects. Mention that profession and Gail offers “maths and greed does not equate to art”, among some fruitier phrases. Instead, she asked interior designer and decorator Greg Mellor to sketch buildings based on the existing architecture. “We had a responsibility. If it was going to be on top of this hill, it had to be sympathetic to the community and to the surrounding natural beauty,” says Gail. “It needed to be simple. There’s no ‘design’ here. We’re both sentimental, and we both have a love for old buildings.”

“For Dorp to be what it needed to be,” adds Greg, “you can’t think generically you can’t think practically. No two rooms are the same. Eventually we worked with a local draughtsman who drew up the building plans.”

An interior decorator Greg may be, but he left that side entirely to the feisty proprietor: “Gail has her own wonderful aesthetic that I wouldn’t dream of interfering with.” That’s not entirely true: it’s clear they share a similar whimsical, irreverent and somewhat nostalgic sense of design. Most items were either collected over time, sourced at auctions or recreated. The secret sauce, of course, is how they are all curated and assigned – and that’s Gail Behr’s talent. Rather than any kind of interior planning, you get a sense that she’s chosen and placed items because they just feel right. And it’s created a rather special hotel – one where you can wander down in your jim-jams and have a chat with the proprietor over morning coffee.

Looking for more architecture and design inspiration? Sign up to our weekly newsletter, here.

The post Dorp Hotel appeared first on Visi.