VICTORIAMARIA CREATES A DREAMWORLD IN THE ANDALUSIAN HILLS

WRITTEN BY BONNIE POP

For interior architect Victoria-Maria Geyer, design has always been a deeply personal act, an instinctive need to reshape the spaces around her. “Even as a child, I was constantly moving furniture in my bedroom,” she recalls. “I’ve always felt the urge to make things mine.” Today, that creative compulsion has found bold new expression in Cortijo Genesis, a once-forgotten ruin reimagined as a colourful boutique hotel in Spain’s Andalusian hills between Marbella and Gibraltar.

Located just outside the village of Gaucín, Cortijo Genesis is Geyer’s latest triumph. The 600-square-metre estate will play the perfect host to intimate, joyful retreats for design lovers.

The garden, landscaped with edible plants and a permaculture plot, is the perfect backdrop for enjoying lazy post-siesta tapas and long sundappled lunches. Here, Geyer channels the sunsoaked aesthetic of Palm Springs with a playful Andalusian twist. Think red-upholstered loungers with white piping, eye-popping mosaic tabletops and parasols whose blue-and-white stripes are a gentle nod to the nearby Mediterranean. A tiled fountain in the courtyard gurgles quietly, its colours and curves calling to mind a romantic hacienda. The feeling is immediate: You’ve entered a place designed as much for dopamine as for dawdling.

Inside, Geyer tells the hotel’s story room by room. Each bedroom draws its inspiration from a different semi-precious stone — citrine yellow, aventurine green, lapis blue, carnelian red and morganite pink — while the walls are kept soft and neutral to allow the striking palette to shine through. Nothing she has done here is formulaic. Instead, there’s a sense of discovery at every turn, the kind of surprise-and-delight moments that bring guests back again and again. The rooms’ abundant treasures include woven raffia heads by Natalia Brilli, mid-century lamps by Heaps & Woods, tapestries by Marc Baumann, Élitis rugs underfoot and Pierre Frey blinds that filter the Andalusian sun.

Adjacent to the kitchen, a sun-drenched living room bathed in warm citrus tones has become the heart of the hotel. Here, Wenceslas sofas from Geyer’s own Victoria Maria Heimat collection, dressed in cheerful orange-and-white candy stripes, invite guests to sink in and stay awhile. A 1960s Roger Capron table anchors the room with vintage charm, while saffron-yellow tiles in the nearby kitchen and a Gordon Hopkins painting, “The Lemon Bowl,” above the fireplace, all add layers of personality. But it’s the 1974 Waldemar Rothe hammock, sourced through Morentz Gallery, that gives the space its final wink, a gentle reminder that this isn’t a hotel in the traditional sense — it’s a home, one where strangers might become friends over a glass of wine, a shared story or the simple pleasure of swinging slowly beneath the Andalusian light.

For Geyer, it’s never just about design — it’s about finding ways to evoke emotion. Her interiors create atmospheres that tell stories. “I like to mix things that shouldn’t necessarily go together,” she once said in an interview. “That’s where the magic happens.” At Cortijo Genesis, that magic is everywhere.

And yet for all its eclecticism, the hotel remains deeply cohesive. Perhaps it’s because every element

— from antique finds to contemporary furnishings — has been chosen with the same clarity of vision. Geyer knows how to use design to lift the mood of anyone in her spaces. That emotional intelligence is echoed in the very foundation of Cortijo Genesis. The family-run agro-tourism retreat is devoted to nourishing guests’ spirit, and is a place where slow travel, local culture and well-being converge. Guests are invited to settle in, breathe deeply and connect with nature, community and themselves.

This is not the kind of hotel you come to for anonymity. You come here to feel something — to sit under striped parasols with glass of rosado in hand and forget what day it is. To be surrounded by beauty that doesn’t take itself too seriously. To live, even for a moment, inside someone else’s dream, and not want to wake up.