The Beaumont
Brown Hart Gardens, Mayfair, London; thebeaumont.com; 73 rooms from $618 (395 euros) a night.
The big news is this is the first hotel venture from Chris Corbin and Jeremy King, business partners who have understood the secret code of London restaurant success for more than 30 years. They started the Ivy in 1990, which quickly became the place to go (if you could get a reservation) to spy Mick Jagger in the seductively lit interior or perhaps an actress from the stage of a nearby West End production. In 2003, they opened the Wolseley in Piccadilly, home of the power breakfast for those who think of pinstripes and pocket poofs as a uniform. (It has the highest grossing turnover of any individual restaurant in Britain.) And in 2012 came Colbert in Sloane Square, the sort of buzzy, charming brasserie where you go to drink pinot grigio and eat perfectly thin french fries in order to recuperate from having spent too much money in Knightsbridge. There are other Corbin & King restaurant ventures in London, and all seem to have fallen out of their imaginations fully formed and populated with lovely, swishy people.
Now, the Beaumont hotel attempts to take that magic touch beyond the dining experience.
Location, location
It does not get better than Mayfair, the neighbourhood in central London where Canada’s MacDonald House, the diplomatic mansion in Grosvenor Square, sold last year to an Indian developer for more than $500-million. Mayfair has the highest price per square foot than anywhere else in London. Selfridges, the shopping mecca, is right around the corner. So is Bond Street, which has some of the most exclusive shops and galleries. This hotel is not where you want to wear sweat pants and running shoes.
Design
The property began life in 1926 as a luxury garage for shoppers at Selfridges. Imagine, there was a special room for chauffeurs and a car wash. The façade was kept but everything else is new. To create a vision for the hotel, the owners came up with a fictional character, Jimmy Beaumont, a hotel manager in New York, who was so sick of Prohibition that he decamped to London, where he created a sleek, art-deco palace. With wonderful portraits of ladies and gentlemen – and even a corner with military men – the hotel has the feel of someone’s private home. A careful selection of 1920s-era furniture and objects brings authenticity. Polished wood panelling throughout is beautiful. There are lovely nostalgic touches such as old phones as props and an elevator sign with a small arrow that points to which floor it is currently on.
Eat in or eat out?
Eating here at the Colony Grill Room is the best part of the stay. The room is intimate and beautiful – the walls are lined with specially commissioned art-deco murals from artist John Mattos as well as black-and-white photographs of American and British stars from the 1920s through to the ’40s. The food is straightforward, casual and delicious. I had “Kenny’s Meatloaf” which was perfect. They also serve a Bubble and Squeak. The attraction is all in being part of a scene – pillowy bosoms, great clothes, angular faces, bright conversation. Nigella Lawson was there in a banquette, stopping by several tables to say hello to friends. Interior designer Anouska Hempel was also tucked into a corner.
Best amenity
The sheets, those crisp, high-thread-count sheets, with numerous pillows. You feel obliged to sleep well when between them. And the towels are divine, too. Oh, and they had a small silver dish, filled with rock crystals to be sprinkled, using a little silver spoon, into my deep bath.
Room with (no) view
If money is no object, stay in the Room by famous British sculptor Sir Antony Gormley. He designed a three-storey, high-abstract sculpture of a crouching man that sits on the south end of the building’s exterior. And you can sleep in it. The suite – available at £2,250 a night (nearly $5,000) opens to a small foyer and a traditional sitting room. The bathroom – all in white marble – is next. Cleanse yourself of London grit, cast off your clothes, and step, naked, up the stairs, past a dark velvet curtain, into the bedroom, which is right in the belly of the sculpture. Panelled in fumed oak, the small room is dark, with no furniture other than a white bed. There are no windows other than one that opens behind shutters to allow a view of morning sky.
If I could change one thing
Ah, that’s simple. I wish that money was no object and I could afford to sleep in the sculpture. The regular rooms are nice and reasonably priced for Mayfair, but they’re not exceptional.
The writer was a guest of the hotel.