We stayed at Estelle Manor, and this is what we have to say.
The Cotswolds has no shortage of lovely manors, but Estelle is in a category ALL its own.
Eiesha Bharti Pasricha is not just the wife of the Oxfordshire manor’s owner. She is the heartbeat. Though she worked with Roman and Williams and a brilliant cast of design talent to create its unbeatably glamorous and enchanting atmosphere, there’s something more to this place.
The clipped lawns, the old Morgan and the mini Land Rovers for kids will greet you just before you walk in and let the old fireplaces, contemporary art, and upholstered things make you immediately want to cancel all plans and stay in—with a book, a flute of Pol Roger, and the bar’s inexplicably euphoric truffle nuts. Ah, and the gardens. They are lush and wild and perfectly unmanicured. And so is the décor with its decadent, plush sprezzatura – crooked lamps, paintings on just one side of the headboard and not the other, and layers upon layers of elegant fancies and sumptuous follies.
But maybe the true genius here is something you don’t see at all: the music everywhere.
At breakfast, in the lounges, by the pool, at the spa… music sets the mood and impeccably matches each space. Take the pool for instance – a cross between a Slim Aarons photograph and a chic Mediterranean beach club.
And then there’s Eynsham Baths, hailed by the press as THE SUPER SPA, a celestial space, almost metaphysical, and epic.
To speak of the 3,000-square-metre Roman-inspired bathhouse and its soaring marble columns, thermal pools, hammam, hay sauna, cold plunges, and barely-there chanting drifting through the rooms doesn’t quite capture what feels more like initiation into an extremely sophisticated ancient cult.
The treatments are all niche: Indian, Tibetan and Chinese traditions; chakra and marma work; heated Ayurvedic potlis; Tibetan Ku Nye; and bespoke oil remedies developed by Eiesha herself. Nothing feels even remotely like the usual hotel-spa menu of expensive deep-tissue versus Swedish.
And please don’t make the mistake of thinking the spa’s Tea Lounge is somewhere to kill twenty minutes before a treatment. Dressed in the monastic poncho they give you, you could just as happily go to Eynsham Baths, have absolutely nothing done, and lose an afternoon to tea, their exquisite snacks, a book and the unfamiliar sensation of having nowhere else to be.
You could arrive at Estelle Manor and never leave. But let’s not leave out the unbeatable charm of this part of the world: its pubs. Drive through the tiny villages around Cowley and commerce seems to be nonexistent, except for the characteristic and scrumptiously soul-soothing pubs and their thrice-baked cheddar soufflés, roast Yorkshire grouse, and pork pies.
And just a practical footnote from experience: the rough gravel at Estelle is no friend to your Manolos or anything with a delicate sole, so bring shoes that can cope.
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