You could watch the world go by in Claridge’s lobby for hours. No Hollywood director could construct, cast or choreograph a more perfect depiction of a five-star thoroughfare, its chromed fixtures and fittings reflecting the comings and goings of improbably well-groomed men and women from the first sittings at breakfast to the last guests drifting out from the Fumoir at night.

Busy but never flustered, Claridge’s public face is one of energy and character rather than hushed sanctum. Head up, or down, however, and you can find the kind of cosseting hideaways you’re after. Up is to bedrooms and suites that either continue the Art Deco theme of the dazzling lobby and lifts (can we pause to appreciate the etched-glass-panelled lifts with cushioned bench seating and marble floors, but also whizzy, touch-free screen controls?) or embrace a more traditional Victorian aesthetic befitting the hotel’s origins.

Since its seven-year refurb, the hotel’s interiors are spectacular. You’d expect it of the most expensive suites, designed by the likes of Ms Michelle Wu and Mr Bryan O’Sullivan, but around every corner are neutral spaces – so often abandoned to a couple of lonely chairs and uninteresting paintings – that are as carefully put together and welcoming as the hotel’s focal points.

The recent work also allowed for the construction of substantial new facilities below ground, including a wine cellar and swimming pool, and now beneath the monochrome marble halls is one of the city’s best and most relaxing spas. Opened in 2023, it is predictably Eastern in influence – bonsai trees and kimonos; a smooth, stone entrance chamber – but traces of colour and flair have permeated down from above to lend it some of that grande dame personality. Everything that always made Claridge’s great is still here – including the legendary afternoon teas – but now it’s even better. Mr Chris Hall

Newly built in 2012, the Bulgari is a discreet, pristine slab of pale stone and dark metal with an international flavour. Perhaps as a result, it’s often overlooked in lists of top stays, but if you want chic, contemporary opulence and serious pampering, it’s hard to beat.

All 85 of the rooms are spacious, but the suites are vast, with dining space up to eight, private kitchens, enormous walk-in-wardrobes and artfully styled living areas, kitted out with mid-century modern furniture and chunky hardbacks on design and photography. It’s a space you’d genuinely consider entertaining in, not just a place to lay your head. Anything that’s not there when you arrive, just have a quiet word with the dedicated butler and it’ll be there faster than you can say “bespoke room mist”.

We relished the views of Hyde Park Barracks, where you can oversee the Household Cavalry with your morning cappuccino, and luxuriated in the full-on glamour of the black marble bathrooms. The Bulgari isn’t a place that does things by halves, but nothing feels gaudy or tasteless – there’s simply a “nothing is too much trouble” attitude.

Fancy a film night? Book out the 47-seat private cinema. Celebrating? Crack open the travel-trunk minibar and send down for a rare Havana cigar. It has become the benchmark to have a world-class spa on site. But the Bulgari was one of the first and it remains a sensational example of the form.

Two subterranean levels of Roman decadence, a 25m pool and a network of relaxation spaces, steam rooms, treatment rooms and a gym spanning 2,000sq m tell their own story. If you can’t unwind here, you need some kind of intervention. Ms Katie Morgan

It’s been a decade since Mr André Balazs opened this celebrity-magnet of a hotel on a once-quiet street in Marylebone. Although it’s no longer the focus of such breathless tabloid attention, and the restaurant is more easily booked, it doesn’t mean the A-list has moved on. You’ll still find pop stars, actors and socialites nestled in a booth at dinner, packing out the bar on weekends or squirrelled away in the “secret” smoking terrace.

It would be faint praise to say the Firehouse’s primary appeal was as a place to see and be seen, because it’s a terrific boutique hotel in its own right. However, the loyalty of famous faces is an inextricable part of its identity.

With 26 warm, comfortable rooms – most with working fireplaces and oh-so-soft furnishings to sink into – it’s no rival for the vast, monolithic mega-hotels, and you’ll search in vain for a spa, pool or gym. But that modest size and cosy domesticity is part of the appeal. The service is top-notch, and taken in the round, the impression gained once you cross the courtyard is that of stepping into the easy-going hospitality of a well-to-do friend – the kind of society host who always seems to have something going on. Not to say that it’s a non-stop raucous party (although don’t rule it out). Just that there’s a healthy buzz about the place.

You can settle in for games of backgammon and cocktails in the lobby before graduating to the lively, industrial-cum-chintzy restaurant. Serious seafood – oysters Rockefeller, devilled crab, dover sole Meunière – dominates the menu, and the signature snacks (crab-stuffed doughnuts forever) still have that indulgent, wolf-down-and-order-another quality.

For all the focus on living the good life on the ground floor, the rooms are surprisingly tranquil and well-insulated from the revelry below. So when you’ve had enough, you can rest easy. CH

Time it right – early evening is best – and the sense of occasion begins when you are about 50m from The Connaught’s door. Every 15 minutes, the granite water feature outside its main entrance on Carlos Place, designed in 2011 by Japanese architect Mr Tadao Ando, emits a cloud of water vapour from the base of the trees that sit within it. Billowing out across the street, it means the immaculate doormen and wrought-iron entranceway appear, mirage-like, as you draw near. It’s no dream, though, but a genuine oasis in the heart of Mayfair.

Here, the promise of living like a prince is more than just lofty rhetoric. You’ll probably bump into one walking up the central mahogany staircase. For all that the building is impressive from the street, it doesn’t begin to hint at the delights that lie within. Mayfair’s nearby restaurants – the timeless Scott’s, the much-discussed Bacchanalia – might try to lure you outside of the hotel’s walls. But when you have the choice of Hélène Darroze’s flagship (triple-Michelin-starred, pure food-as-theatre), the recently reopened Connaught Grill (a carnivore’s delight, swathed in history) and our favourite, the airy, elegant Jean-Georges restaurant where the people-watching is as delicious as the truffle pizza, why leave?

You still don’t have to put on your coat to arrive at a radical, arty, supremely Instagrammable wine bar in the form of the Red Room, or one of the world’s – yes, the entire world’s – best cocktail spots, the Connaught Bar.

We drank signature creations that are as far removed from house-party staples as a Caravaggio is from stick-man doodling, and couldn’t ignore the martini trolley. Never has 5oz of pure booze been as flamboyantly – or as assiduously – presented, right down to the aromatic comparison of six possible vermouths.

Retire for the night and perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to be staying in one of the many standout suites. The appeal of the Terrace and Library suites are self-explanatory. The Mews benefits from its own street entrance and discreet connections to the hotel proper, while the apex option is The Apartment, a penthouse of dreams for the true connoisseur. The next day, you can shake it all off in the subterranean Aman spa, ready to go again. CH

The world of hospitality can be as susceptible to trends as any other. Minimalist, maximalist, driven by destination restaurants, obsessed with in-room gimmicks or the height of the view. But some things are constant, and the notion of the quintessential British hotel is one of them. London has many aspirants to the title – however imaginary – of “most traditional hotel”, but the Goring reigns supreme. It may not be the oldest, but it is the only five-star hotel still run by its founding family, and it enjoys the closest connections to the Royal Family and aristocracy.

It would be wrong to describe it as stuffy – especially with its newly overhauled main restaurant – but it adheres to a certain sense of polite decorum. For example, phones are discouraged at the bar and a smart-casual dress code is requested. That might feel unusual in an age of relaxed luxury and the expectation of everything, but it’s also why this hotel stands out.

The Goring could only ever exist in London, and to stay there is to immerse yourself in its upper-class charms. But don’t be fooled by the sharply suited footmen and stately, red-brick presence – it is as welcoming and comfortable as any luxury hotel. If you visit in spring or summer, you’ll see it at its best, and can experience one of our favourite “secret London” pleasures: taking a gin and tonic on the terrace overlooking the garden before having a game of croquet on the lawn. It’s such a quintessentially British scene you’ll doubt it could be real. But it is, and that’s the Goring in a nutshell. CH

Housed in the former Bow Street Magistrate’s Court, NoMad London is a peaceful nook in the heart of Covent Garden – opposite the Royal Opera House and a minute’s walk away from Covent Garden’s main square. With Art Deco interiors inspired by 1920s London and New York, NoMad offers 91 spacious rooms (including 16 suites) and an array of bars and restaurants.

The building comes with an abundant history of justice dating back to the 18th century – Mr Oscar Wilde was detained in the premises and the Suffragettes and Kray Twins were tried there. Keep an eye out for small nods throughout the building that pay homage to its past. Today, the building is home to a gallery-worthy 1,600-piece art collection (most of them originals – the hotel makes it a case to commission living artists for custom pieces), so the overall feel is more of artistic stimulation than incarceration.

The NoMad Restaurant sits in an Edwardian greenhouse-themed room, filled with natural light all-year round. Make sure you sit for a coffee and a pastry (or a drink in the late hours) in The Library, the dimly lit, cosiest corner of the hotel, filled with handpicked books and beautiful artwork. And don’t sleep on Side Hustle, the hotel’s vibrant yet chill bar and restaurant, nestled in the building’s former police station. It offers a Latin American and Californian-influenced menu, filled with sharing plates and agave cocktails.

If you’re feeling a little puffy from the margaritas of the night before, visit the resident facialist Ms Katie England, who combines high-tech techniques with holistic massage for ultimate sculpting. Her bespoke facial includes a series of different treatments specifically curated for your skin’s concerns. And try out the Slimyonik Air treatment, which encourages lymphatic drainage in the body, decreasing inflammation and helping with muscle recovery – dispensing justice of an altogether kinder sort. Ms Danai Dana

Despite being a stone’s throw from Oxford Street, the Prince Akatoki feels like an oasis of tranquility. The 82-room hotel, which takes its name from the Japanese word for dawn, aims to celebrate “the art, ritual and elegance of Japanese hospitality”. And that’s exactly what it does.

The elegance comes by way of luxurious yet impeccably minimalist interiors set within a classic Mayfair townhouse, which create a harmonious juxtaposition between classic Japanese elements and Western architecture. The Scandinavian furniture throughout the Sanctuary lobby, restaurant, bars and rooms – all curated by design firm B3 Designers – uses blonde timbers, simple geometries and neutral tones to create a calming atmosphere. Even the lighting is intended to reference nature, planned to mimic the rising and setting of the sun. The guest rooms are designed with minimal, low-level bed frames, backed by serene fusuma-inspired headboards, to allow guests to escape the chaos of the modern world.

The decor, too, is a nod to nature, with wall art and traditional Japanese ikebana flower arrangements – delicate, precise, restrained – throughout. The fusuma panel artwork, portraying scenes of Japanese dawns through the seasons, is realised in collaboration with British illustrator Mr Matt Murphy, and inspired by traditional ink wash painting techniques.

Then there are the rituals. Each room comes with a yoga mat, a teapot with an assortment of loose-leaf tea and a yukata – a traditional Japanese bath robe that has become something of a cultural tradition, first worn by court nobles in the Heian era, then by Edo warriors and more recently popularised as after-bath wear. The restaurant and bar also follow Japanese rituals and traditions, with anything from sushi to caramelised miso cod, A5 wagyu beef and umeshu sake on the menu, transporting its guests to the land of the rising sun, in a corner of central London. Ms Emma Pradella

Like an alien spaceship, the British outpost of the retro-futuristic Standard hotel group descended onto the otherwise drab surroundings of King’s Cross in 2019, livening up what was formerly a fairly charmless area of north London. Four years later, it remains a singularly snappy proposition, which has transformed a former town hall building into a 1970s-tinged hangout for the London cool crowd. It’s become an after-party fixture during London Fashion Week, the Brit Awards and just about every other notable calendar event in the city. It’s hard to get out of the lift without bumping into at least one fashion designer.

The rooms express character and quirkiness, with moulded plastic furnishings, op-art mirrors and block-coloured carpets that make you feel like you’re in a Mr Wes Anderson remake of The Shining. It makes a refreshing and considered rebuttal to the blandly beige aesthetic of so many luxury hotels. Yet it manages style without chilliness, thanks to its amenable and good-natured staff.

Ask for a front-facing room, which looks out across Kings Cross station and the sea of travellers boarding the Eurostar to Paris (which explains the European plug sockets available in most rooms). You could, conceivably, spend an entire weekend people-watching from the windows. Surprisingly, for such a bustling part of the city, the rooms are peaceful: the gentle, white-noise hum of traffic is as much disturbance as you’re likely to get.

But for the majority of the hotel’s well-heeled clientele, “peaceful” isn’t at the top of the priority list. The Standard plays host to no less than five bars and restaurants, but for our money it’s hard to beat the ground-floor Library lounge’s vintage sofas, wood burners and vinyl records. For deal-making drinks, first dates or “just-one-more” nightcaps, it’s undeniably one of the city’s most elegantly happening spots. Mr Rob Nowill

The first thing you notice when entering The Twenty Two is the smell. The fragrance, rather. The Twenty Two smells incredible. But that’s not all. Occupying an Edwardian manor off Mayfair’s Grovesnor Square, this luxury hotel combines everything you might expect from such a location (old-world opulence, classic architecture, fancy neighbours) with modern touches that make it feel both alluring and exclusive at once.

Staff, dressed in stylish gem-toned uniforms designed by Mr Charlie Casely-Hayford, greet you in the small (by luxury hotel standards) entrance. But this diminutive lobby belies the jewel-box of luxuries beyond. Interior designer Ms Natalia Miyar went maximalist with unique and colourful guest rooms and suites, many of which sport bold Pierre Frey wallpaper, lush velvet curtains and characterful details such as silk upholstery and tufted, tasselled seating. The hallways (and some rooms) are lined with a clever carpet that looks like herringbone parquet – a tricksy feast for the eyes that sets a playful tone.

Looking to relax? Climb into a giant tub in your checkerboard cabochon marble bathroom. Need something a little extra? Ask the concierge about their Linger & Dreem service: a 60-minute in-room massage which uses a “harmonious fusion of CBD, botanicals and soothing techniques designed to release tension and enhance your overall wellbeing.” Need something even more extra? You can opt for an accompanying healing sound bath. Trust us, spring for the sound bath.

Downstairs, The Twenty Two’s restaurant is a buzzy affair. Even buzzier is its club, a member and resident-only lounge and café that boasts the same lush velvety grandeur as the rest of the space. Ms Lili Göksenin

Occupying a sizeable plot on the south-west side of Hyde Park Corner, the newly built Peninsula looms over the next-door Lanesborough, yet from the front is unassuming. Architecture’s “quiet luxury” phase is clearly here. Arrive by car into the central courtyard – pulling up alongside, or perhaps even in, one of the hotel’s fleet of Bentleys, Rolls-Royces and electric taxis – and you get more of a sense of the opulence within. The Peninsula commands a view over most of its neighbours, including Buckingham Palace gardens, the temptation to snoop over which is enabled by a Phileas Fogg-worthy pair of tripod-mounted binoculars in the bedroom.

With one’s curiosity exhausted, it’s easy to recharge in the spacious bathroom courtesy of a one-touch “spa-mode” button. However, we recommend you head down to the basement for the real thing: a 25m pool complete with underwater music and a complex of quiet spaces in which to be steamed, saunaed, pampered and otherwise generally restored against the bustle of the city above.

No major hotel launch would be complete without a restaurant to match. The hotel has two almost diametrically opposed flagships: the pan-Asian-with-British-twists Canton Blue (all cosy spaces, dark wood and rich, vibrant décor) and the eighth-floor Brooklands, with its full-length terrace and light, airy styling.

Air here being the operative word – the lifts are kitted out like hot air balloons, while diners eat under a stylised scale model of Concorde, surrounded by pale beech walls, grey swivel chairs and digital display boards reminiscent of a first-class departure lounge.

The kitchsy, eclectic mix of aeronautical and automotive influences (classic car details also abound, including a 1930s Napier-Railton, holder of the speed record at the eponymous racetrack) is either charmingly whimsical or mildly confusing. But there’s nothing questionable about the quality of the food, for which head chef Mr Claude Bosi has picked up two Michelin stars within four months of opening, or the impeccable service and deep knowledge of the staff.

Big, bold and packed with thoughtful touches, the Peninsula has laid down a marker for London’s other imminent big-brand openings. CH

Anyone who says you can’t stay in central London without running up substantial bills or enduring dull, bland, soulless big-chain hotels has clearly never heard of the Lime Tree Hotel. Situated in one of the most desirable and best-connected neighbourhoods, five minutes from Victoria station and the same distance in the other direction to Sloane Square, it has no business being this warm, friendly and reasonably priced.

It’s a total cliché to call Elizabeth Street – which it corners – London’s prettiest street. But once you’re there you will grudgingly admit that its Georgian architecture, independent boutiques and cafés do take some beating. Two of those Georgian townhouses form the Lime Tree, combining to offer 26 bedrooms that are rated as either “cosy” or “generous”. The latter are high-ceilinged and airy; all are lovingly decorated in a country house style that’s festooned with characterful quirks like the old-style rotary dial phones (kids, a landline telephone is… oh, never mind).

The entire hotel was refurbished during the pandemic, and there’s a wholesome, literary feel to the place. We lost count of the number of places that looked tailor-made for hunkering down with a coffee and a good book. That includes the peaceful courtyard garden, with cult striped deckchairs, and the café/restaurant The Buttery, which provides sumptuous breakfasts and homely lunch dishes, but no evening service.

Being forced to put down that book and venture out is no hardship, and while there are great restaurants on your doorstep (we have a soft spot for Olivo and Olivetto, sister Sardinian joints just around the corner), you are also incredibly close to everything that Mayfair and Soho have to offer. To find this kind of relaxed, classically British, independent hotel, where you’re likely to find the owners taking your breakfast order, is nothing short of a miracle in modern-day London. CH

If you weren’t looking for it, you’d never spot Henry’s Townhouse. Nestled in a row of five-storey Georgian buildings on a smart Marylebone street, there is only a small brass plaque by the doorbell to identify it. Ring to enter and you’ll be ushered into the front sitting room and find your bags replaced by a glass of champagne before you know it.

That’s the thing about Henry’s: step over the threshold and you enter a world of discreet, old-school charm. This is no flashy modern hotel. It is a home – an impressive labour of love from owners Mr Steven and Ms Jane Collins, who discovered after purchasing the property that it was once owned by Mr Henry Austen, Ms Jane Austen’s brother. The couple spent more than two years stripping the house back to its original floorplan and revealing a wealth of period details before bringing it lovingly up to spec, in partnership with Russel Sage Studio, designers of the much-loved Fife Arms in Scotland.

The result is a period interior with seamlessly concealed modern touches. Your eye will land on the beautiful antique furniture, plush fabrics, endless paintings, thoughtfully chosen objects and – of course – first-edition Austens on the bookshelves.

Originally intended only for exclusive bookings, the house is now available as a (very) luxurious B&B. It has six bedrooms, three reception rooms and a spacious refectory in which breakfasts are served. You’re invited to treat Henry’s as your own – sit and read, work or invite friends in for drinks, all you have to do is ask.

Below stairs are well-stocked wine fridges and kitchens. In a “normal” hotel, this would probably be described as butler service, but at Henry’s it’s all part of the package. In the bedrooms there are vast beds with crisp white sheets and giant feather pillows to disappear into. Marble and antique wood bathrooms with clamshell tubs. Perfect lighting. And, of course, all amenities are on offer – a stocked mini bar, organic toiletries, Dyson hairdryers and fans and neatly hidden televisions (for watching period dramas, obviously).

Whether you’re just stopping by for a night or looking for a homely base from which to explore London at leisure, Henry’s is a real hidden gem. Ms Lucy Kingett