At home, Chez Georges
- themisfrigo
- Dec 7, 2025
- 3 min read
Santa Teresa sits high enough above Rio to feel like a parallel version of the city, and it’s here, at the end of a unassuming road, that Chez George appears—a 1970s modernist residence turned guesthouse that still behaves like a private home.
A 1970s Modernist Structure in Santa Teresa
Santa Teresa sits above the noise of Rio de Janeiro, a neighbourhood of steep roads, aging stucco, and small studios that open at irregular hours. It feels more residential than curated, more lived-in than romanticised. After several days in Ipanema, we moved here for a change of setting — not for escape, but simply to see the city from another angle.
Chez Georges occupies one of the high points of the neighbourhood, a 1970s residence designed by Wladimir Alves de Souza and later converted into a seven-room guesthouse. The house still carries the imprint of a private home: long sightlines, unexpected mezzanines, and rooms that bleed into each other without obvious boundaries. The materials speak first — concrete, Brazilian woods, whitewashed walls, patterned tiles — and give the architecture a clarity that rarely appears in newer hotels. Nothing feels precious; nothing feels staged.
Living within the house's natural rhythm
Arrival is low-key. A young staff member greets you, shows you around, and steps back. Despite the small key count, the property doesn’t force interaction. The scale of the house distributes guests naturally, and it’s easy to go hours without seeing anyone else. The overall atmosphere is unhurried, almost slow-motion.
Our suite, the Moroder/Jorge Ben Master Suite, sits just below the main house, built into the cliffside. The interior is pared back: a bedroom opening to a balcony with views over the bay, followed by a concrete-and-wood bathroom whose floor-to-ceiling glass and foliage backdrop make the shower the standout element. It’s a space defined far more by geometry and landscape than by décor. In late August, the room ran slightly cold in the evenings, a seasonal quirk of a structure designed for Rio’s heat rather than its shoulder months.
The common areas show the property at its best. The pool stretches across the lawn in a single blue line, framing Sugarloaf, downtown, and Niterói in the distance. Several lounges throughout the house hold mid-century pieces from both Brazil and Europe, arranged with a casualness that keeps the space from feeling overly styled. Breakfast, fruit, breads, pastries, cold cuts, is served at a communal table, unfussy and consistent.
Realities behind the view
Staying here comes with two practical considerations. The first is access: Santa Teresa’s inclines are sharp, and ride-share drivers frequently decline the final ascent. Reaching the property during rain required re-mapping the route entirely to find a lesser grade. The second is noise from the adjacent Casa de Show, a historic residence now used for events. A wedding took place during our stay, carrying into the night.
Guests skew toward couples and design-inclined travelers; the house’s edges, levels, and cliffside positioning make it less suitable for young children. There is no program of activities or elaborate service model, Chez Georges is designed for people who prefer being left alone with a well-designed space and a strong view.
As a short stay, Chez Georges succeeds in offering a different reading of Rio de Janeiro — one defined by elevation, architecture, and quiet, rather than coastline or crowds. It’s a property that holds its own mood, and it maintains it without effort.
