Luxury Hotels

The theatre of hotel life

Krishma Singh Dear, above, is co-owner and co-designer of THE LONDONER, the pure-theatre Leicester Square sleep-spot sensation that has taken many hotel-watchers by surprise. Honestly, The Londoner is SUCH A SPECTACULAR EXPERIENCE THAT REVIEWER SHERELLE JACOBS SAYS SHE DOESN’T DOUBT SHE’LL BE BACK (Sunday Telegraph 17th October). Girlahead agrees 100%.

This is not a hotel but a lifestyle stage, says GM Charles Oak firmly. Well, it’s at the south-west corner of Leicester Square, HUB OF ENTERTAINMENT LAND. From many of the 350 rooms, look out at the buzz – the square currently hosts wood masts imagining mythical animals. Look around, at live theatres, audiences permanently coming and going.

And yet, inside, the eight-floor hotel is oasis of calm. Those who want the most space would go for the two-floor 200sq m Penthouse Suite, which comes with a car, and Olivia von Halle silk pyjamas. Personally I found 27sq m King Room #405 more than ample. Of the many standouts in Yabu Pushelberg’s interiors are soft bedroom colours contrasting with dark green wall tiles in the bathroom: lie in its tub to look through to the bed, though from the bed you see a ceiling-high mirror instead of bod-in-bathtub. There’s Hollywood lighting, a Toto washlet, and a framed genuine formal letter from a recent PM to his Deputy with, thanks to artistic licence, 98% of words frustratingly blacked out.

I smiled, a lot at The Londoner’s thought processes. I appreciated having well-labelled light switches, and ample wall hooks in the main room for the bird-handled stylish umbrella (their’s) and the distressed denim jacket (mine, and fashionista de rigueur, all ages). And the room has USB ports and electric sockets (UK), wherever.

Walk out, a few minutes, to Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square or wherever. Recover, 24/7, in The Londoner’s futuristic gym, in one of four floors newly created underground. The pool, nail bar, barber and spa naturally operate normal hours, only.

Decision time. Breakfast lightly in the lobby’s Champagne Bar, or healthily and/or more heavily in day-long Whitcomb’s, perhaps borrowing superficial glossies or today’s polysyllabic newspapers for celeb- or private equity-updates. For main meals, you have Japanese or, at all times, a cave-like Residents’ Lounge, a club free to all inhouse guests – its complimentary antipasti trolley is outstanding (try the aged parmesan cubes, marinated artichoke hearts and truffle grissini, and buy a flute of perfectly-chilled Charles Heidsieck Brut).