Mizu B&B Retreat & Spa, Olivers Hill review: Women's liberation

Jo Hegerty finds some breathing space at an all-female retreat.

There are some things, dare I say, that men don't understand. This incomprehension is writ large on my husband's face as I pack for my mini-escape on the Mornington Peninsula. "So why can't I come too?" he asks.

"Unfortunately," I say, feigning sorrow, "Mizu Retreat is only for women."

And that's why I'm going. I need an escape from deadlines, traffic, coffee, my phone and, not that I could ever tell him, from my darling hubby.

Just south of Frankston, the road curves up affluent Olivers Hill then winds and weaves higher still. The modern, chocolate-coloured house that is Mizu Retreat is unmarked, save for a row of white Bali flags leading down a narrow driveway. There I'm greeted by Kirsty, who leads me up the carpeted stairs.

The sunlight-filled split living room is furnished with a rich brown sofa and deep shaggy rug in cream, with honey-coloured floorboards and wood-panelling in the open kitchen. As Kirsty prepares my lunch and tea, I walk to the floor-to-ceiling windows and gaze upon the lovely sickle-shaped beach. I can see the Frankston Pier. Across the bay, the city is a distant, hazy smudge.

I walk out onto the balcony and climb up a ladder to the rooftop terrazzo, where the view is even better. Inspired, I vow to do some exercise here in the morning. Kirsty instructs me to adorn a robe, enjoy my lunch and relax until she comes to get me for my facial. Sounds OK to me.

The meal is simple and light: some dips, tea and salad I feel cleansed already. After lunch, I prowl around a little. The kitchen is immaculate, with stainless-steel benchtops, uncluttered except for a candle-warmed teapot. Downstairs, in front of the faux-fireplace, there are floor cushions in burnt orange and pearl. Statuettes, tea sets, flowers and artwork decorate the place in a wonderfully feminine way. This is what my home would be like if I were perfect, I think.

I've brought a fistful of self-betterment titles but these never make it out of my bag. Instead, I go straight to the bookshelf lined with IsabelAllende, Paulo Coelho, Louise Hay, Girls Night In anthologies and The Biggest Book of Bloke Jokes Ever. During my stay, I read a whole book. When Kirsty collects me, I'm curled up in a fluffy white robe, reading.