The Hoxton’s second Amsterdam outpost in the city’s Eastern Docklands invites visitors to trade the writhing canal zone for a lesser-visited and under-appreciated neighbourhood, writes Robbie Hodges

Oh, if only the walls of the Hoxton Lloyd Amsterdam could talk… Yes, there would be the slew of raunchy midnight escapades that have no doubt accumulated in curtains and bed sheets since it opened in 2023. But the dramatic stories that predate the building’s most recent, glorious reincarnation would have you sandwiching your head between pillows for a moment’s relief. 

Loitering just outside of Amsterdam’s canal zone in the Eastern Docklands, a gusty 10-minute cycle or tram ride from Centraal station, the historic Lloyd Building which the hotel calls home has borne witness to the city’s chequered past. 

It was doomed from the off – a hotel built by the shipping company KHL for transatlantic migrants that was an eye-watering eight times over-budget upon completion in 1921. Through the 20s and 30s it provided temporary accommodation for immigrants, before becoming a Jewish detention centre during the Nazi occupation. It broadly remained a prison until the 80s, when the Dutch government invited Yugoslav artists to co-opt its dank cells as studios. From 2004 it hobbled along as a perfectly cromulent hotel before being ravished by Ennismore in 2021.

The Hoxton has hoovered up all of these historical nuggets and dropped them about the hotel like Easter eggs, whether it’s model boats floating on countertops in the bar or kosher accents on the restaurant menu. Despite these tasteful nods it’s still a turbulent narrative arc, as reflected in the surrounding area which has all the tell-tale signs of a hard-up neighbourhood done good.Strolling through the Czaar Peter Kwartier, steam wands gurgle and whistle from the window hatches of independent baristas; expensive ‘preloved’ garments gingerly wink from glassy shop fronts; and cult bakeries like Stadsbakkerij As keep modern yuppies waiting in those absurd, dystopian queues familiar to gentrified neighbourhoods the world over. There’s even a tufting studio, Shaggies, which must yank in a good trade from the swaggy locals.

In brief: it’s all very on-brand for the Hoxton, which has tactfully positioned itself in upwardly mobile milieus for the best part of two decades. Its first Amsterdam property (yes, there are now two) is smack-bang among the canals. And while that address feels typically Hoxton-esque, with digital nomads vying for plug sockets in the lobby and dainty plates spinning out of an open-plan restaurant in rapid fire, the Lloyd invites guests to pause.For a start, check-in is burrowed in the heart of the hotel, through a curtained reception area, one room over from the restaurant and along a charming corridor with all the original tiles – not a single coffee-addled remote worker in sight. Of course, a velvety lounge where the laptop-bound are encouraged to tap away is there, tucked beside the cocktail bar. But that signature cosmopolitan buzz has been dialled down to a gentle hum.

It’s a warren in the best way, all twirling staircases and winding corridors puckered with original Art Deco stained glass windows and doors leading to who knows where. Up in the rafters, rooms with sloped ceilings are scored by original beams and windows that peer out over the water, while original pillars slice through rooms on the floors below, creating close and cosy (some might say pokey) rooms.As per the in-room welcome materials: “It’s like hanging out at a neighbour’s house where they have good taste and great coffee.” If the strangers who live next door had the immaculate parquet floors and space-agey lighting fixtures found in each of The Lloyd’s bedrooms I might consider befriending them. Or if, like the Hoxton, their walls were dressed with original artworks chosen by a local gallery. Bisou, the gallery responsible for all of the graphic prints and paintings staggered along corridors and lounges, is in waving distance just across the water. They might be stylish and adequately comfortable, but they aren’t the types of rooms that encourage you to languish all day in bed.   For the ardent step-counters: etch your breakfast preferences onto the in-room paper bag, pop it outside the night before and sweep it up as you hurtle out the door in the morning. For everyone else: scoop yourself into a booth in the swanky Breman Brasserie where bombastic nods to the building’s South American connections sprout from leafy planters and are splashed on vibrantly painted wall tiles. 

The whole vibe has all the oomph of a strong Colombian espresso, an effect that must be heightened in the summer when its floor-to-ceiling windows are blown open and the garden terrace comes alive with woozy guests slurping Zeeland oysters as thick salty air rolls in. Or, so I imagine. During our visit, Amsterdam’s wicked winds meant the terrace was closed and all guests were held hostage in the dining room – perfect conditions for me to indulge in some brisk demographic analysis. Scattered among tables were middle-aged couples in quietly expensive clothing, frazzled parents with iPad kids, hipster adult kids with trepidatious parents and corporate cogs in navy half-zips. A veritable zoo of visitors, which speaks to the scope of the brasserie menu.  On tabletops, latkes jostle with churrasco chicken and hunks of sourdough from Fort Negen (an on-the-pulse bakery in West Amsterdam whose stuffed muhammara croissants draw pilgrims from afar).

You can order zesty salmon ceviche followed by schnitzel or polish off a lobster roll before mopping up a tres leches cake. From breakfast to dinner, it’s a series of crowd-pleasers with an east-meets-west-meets-past-meets-present kind of approach that blows in so many directions you’d be forgiven for feeling a little windswept. If you’re hankering for something a little more curated, dare I say ‘Small Plates Natural Wine’, you’re perfectly placed to find it. Skip across the street to VRR or adopt local camouflage by borrowing one of the hotel’s complimentary ebikes and rocking up to dinner astraddle a pair of wheels. To reach the city’s most discerning spots in the Noord neighbourhood, you’ll have to cycle onto a ferry (also free, no ticket needed). But persevere, and you’ll find Cornerstore, Cafe Restaurant Metro, Benelux and more. Wallflower tourists don’t typically dare venture to this grungier part of the city, and it’s all the better for it. Before crashing into bed, you’ll want a nightcap at the hotel’s bar, Barbue. Each drink has been concocted by the celebrated Argentinian mixologist Tato Giovannoni to evoke whiffs of The Lloyd’s transatlantic origin story. 

The room itself is the former ticketing office of the KHL shipping company and retains all of its original dark wood panelling. Gauzy curtains billow from looming windows like sails from a mast as guests cosy up in dark, shadowy nooks where suitcase-toting migrants once braced themselves for teary goodbyes. 

Today the only things making a splash are colourful tumblers of vermouth and ‘amargos’, herbal Argentine aperitifs. And for those wheeling their cases home today, I imagine it’s less of a bleary-eyed "farewell" and more of a casual "see you later". Any smart traveller knows better than to bed down amid the writhing masses in the canal zone and The Lloyd Hoxton offers a convenient, quieter alternative. In some ways – with its post-industrial neighbours and just-out-of-town postcode – it feels truer to the hotel group’s original intentions than some of the brand’s more established properties, many of which have lost their edge to the relentless tidal forces of gentrification. 

It might not have crowds swinging through in their droves and the same sultry shoulder-rubbing that city-centre Hoxtons are known for, but in a city crippled by overtourism, is that really such a bad thing?