Hotel hit squad The Londoner
It’s the capital’s hotel opening of the year – but can it live up to the hype? Sherelle Jacobs can’t wait to find out…
The world’s first “super-boutique hotel” (their term not mine) has just opened in Leicester Square – the iconic London cinema district that has had more facelifts than the late Joan Rivers. It was a washerwoman’s district before it bloomed into a neighbourhood good enough for William Hogarth, then sagged once more into a rubbish tip before being transformed into handsome gardens by a controversial Tory MP – eventually attracting theatres, which in turn made way for cinemas.
Another colourful Conservative, Boris Johnson, oversaw a further revival as Mayor of London, causing a stir with the import of thousands of granite slabs from China. It does feel like Leicester Square’s time is coming once more, however. With its sprinkling of new deluxe cinemas, and chichi Covent Garden around the corner thriving, it seems only a matter of time before pizza chains and student nights make way for oyster bars and organic markets.
The Londoner is probably the catalyst the area has been waiting for; as disruptive as Soho House playground The Ned was when it opened in 2017. It’s a wildly impressive architectural feat, eight years in the making and costing more than £500 million, with six floors underground making it home to London’s deepest habitable basement. It has its own cinema, six eateries, a spa with pool and nail bar, members’ club-style areas and 350 edgy rooms stuffed with hand-picked art, aiming to satisfy the millennial craving for both exclusive intimacy and endless distraction.
It achieves this to a tee. Entering the mocha lobby is like sliding into a giant cappuccino, with its caramel drapes, frothy velvet chairs and bronze lighting flecked across the mirrored ceiling. Here guests can sip on Ruinart in the evening as a live pianist plays.
My first stop, however, was the basement Retreat spa, a clear contender for one of the best in the city. Its large pool and hydro-pool are framed by vast cabana pods strewn with pillows. A couple of rounds in the sauna and steam room complete the build-up to a treatment. I opted for the Gold facial, with Hungarian face massage (gentler than it sounds) and rounded off with gold shimmer on the arms and décolletage – the perfect primer to a glamorous night out in the West End. By the end I was gleaming like the dishes in a Fairy liquid ad; a positive enough outcome to warrant a rare #nomakeup post on Instagram.
With dining options ranging from Mediterranean Whitcomb’s, where one can feast on snails and Dover sole, to the Philly cheesesteaks and truffle popcorn in Joshua’s Tavern, it’s hard to choose. But booking a table at 8, the hotel’s high-rise Japanese izakaya lounge, is a must. Cosy up in the Shima Garden, complete with fire pit and bamboo trees, for pre-dinner cocktails; the lychee rosé cocktail suffused with Mt Fuji aroma was a showstopper.
I didn’t regret putting my faith in the chef and going with the omakase tasting menu. An elegant beef tataki with truffle didn’t so much melt in the mouth as sweetly vaporise on the taste buds, while the best tempura dish of my life seemed to defy the laws of science by retaining its crispness while bathed in a forensically perfect citrus soy.
Exploring the guest-only areas makes for an exciting post-dinner act, all shimmering miniature bars and marble chess sets. My favourite was the whisky speakeasy, a hidden art deco delight stuffed with Japanese and Scottish malts.
Soothing, wood-clad bedrooms have fabulous skyline vistas, and each room has its own quirky framings and artwork. Mine had a mounted letter from Jeremy Corbyn to the then-prime minister Theresa May in the bathroom. Although suites lend more space and extensive views, even entry-level rooms come with ceiling-to-floor windows.
A millennial-tastic breakfast is served in Whitcomb’s, with its boxes sprayed with lavender and a scribbly ceiling art installation. The crab omelette comes with a £24 surcharge, but the regular menu also features excitements such as salmon and asparagus served in a sizzling skillet, and purple broccoli and eggs on sourdough.
It was so painful to leave the Londoner behind that I returned a few days later for an espresso martini in the lobby’s champagne lounge before going to see the new Bond film. I don’t doubt I will be back again. That’s if there is any hope of a reservation when word gets out that London’s hotel opening of the year does actually live up to the hype.
Rooms from £400, including breakfast