The Beaumont

After years of working round the clock juggling a nascent interiors business with my Mr Smith along with small children, and passing each other like ships in the night, the lure of a weekend together at the end of winter – where no flights or trains are needed – was as seductive as a trip to the tropics. Key London art exhibitions, plays, musicals and ballets have passed us by – the nurturing of a start-up business took precedence over seeing our city. Since our brand is largely inspired by the golden age of decorating, the promise of experiencing the Capital while based in a hotel where the service harks back to the golden age of hospitality, where the interiors provide soothing escapism from busy lives, was tantalising…

Stumbling into the beautiful sleepy W1 square and the art deco hotel seemed to rise from it majestically like a pyramid. In the spirit of fun and adventure that framed our family expedition, I raced my son towards the hotel, and we fell belly-laughing into the foyer. One doesn’t imagine this is a typical entrance to such a sophisticated hotel. Childish as it was, it gave way to a warm welcome from the team, akin to the greeting given to Annie as she’s received at Daddy Warbuck’s mansion for the first time. Coats were taken from our backs and suitcases disappeared care of a sleek effortless routine. 

First port of call, before any expeditions, was lunch at the Colony Grill. As you would expect from the duo behind the hotel – Chris Corbin and Jeremy King, formerly of the Ivy and Le Caprice, now of the Wolseley and the Delaunay – the dining at the Beaumont is a highlight. The Colony Grill could be the setting for a Downton Abbey away-day episode where they all gorge on hot dogs, get sloshed on bourbon and Charleston the night away with exotic guests. From a menu that spans transatlantic classics from the Thirties to the Seventies, we experienced a sublime hamburger, tasty shrimp po’boy and creamy cod grenobloise. The mini shepherd’s pies were possibly also the best ever tasted, and for once their plates were cleaned completely. Perhaps helped by the promise of making their own ice-cream sundaes, where you tick boxes on a notepad to choose your toppings.

Bellies made content, it was time to explore our environs – firstly the building itself. The low-lit hallways are worthy of purposeful prowling from Poirot and the chic suites could inspire some Lawrencian romantic intrigue. Built in 1927, it has been sympathetically restored and the exterior is a perfect representation of the hotel itself, with a three-storey Antony Gormley-produced sculptural cuboid (it reminded our son of Star Wars) attached to the side of the hotel, demonstrating the perfect harmony of the contemporary with timeless design. Ever since the scaffolding was removed to reveal Gormley’s ‘Room’ back in in 2014 – a kind of take on The Thinker – there’s been a buzz about the Beaumont. As central as it gets in London, it still seems a spot that time somehow forgot – you almost have to keep reminding yourself that you’re in the middle of Mayfair with the bustle of Oxford Street but a street away. After an unhurried afternoon of carefree shop and gallery exploring there was a tea stop at Claridges. We found out later that the Beaumont offers residents a local spin in their chauffeur-driven Daimler – word has it that it once belonged to the Queen Mum (cue the ultimate ‘Let’s go to the movies…’ experience.)

Indeed, the devil is in the detail at the Beaumont. Heated mosaic tile floors were welcome in our bathroom (a soak in a bubble bath would have been a dream but at least our interconnecting superior rooms had excellent showers) – with toiletries seemingly plucked from the Twenties. There were the softest linens and a mostly-complimentary minibar of delicious treats – the English shortbreads and Thirties-inspired Wonka-style chocolate bars didn’t last long. But perhaps the biggest indulgence was having time to read – and so we luxuriated in having some well-chosen books on hand too.

Don’t let me distract you with tales of our adventure as a family – this hotel is probably even more appealing if you’re a couple. Even with our two in tow it was a much-needed dose of romance: especially when it came to seeing this fantastic city in a new light. One of the many plusses of the staycation was that a favourite babysitter could mind the children while Mr & Mrs Smith tripped the London-lights-fantastic. After a pre-theatre martini in the Colony Bar we continued the authentic Thirties’ theme of the weekend sans enfants with a trip to 'Miss Saigon' at the Prince Edward Theatre.

We woke up to a London sunrise and a skyline comprised of some our best-known buildings – the top of the Shard, the British Museum and the BT Tower – it felt familiar yet exciting from this new viewpoint. Truthfully Mr Smith was craving a hearty full English, but the spread that awaited, prioritising pastries, porridge and poached eggs, was still welcome – a Continental breakfast is usually included in the room rate. As we were checking out, I was asked by the charming front office manager if I was related to their Gormley – clearly the team had Googled me, presumably in order to cater best to their guests’ needs. Despite its youth, the Beaumont already feels like an old friend – top-drawer service with a relaxed edge, applause-worthy attention to detail and the unshakeable feeling that business can turn into pleasure at the clink of a cocktail.