When the esteemed Peninsula group decided to launch its 12th international outpost in London, its position had to be somewhere extra-special, its chairman, Michael Kadoorie, decided. Ideally, the hotel needed to be near Buckingham Palace and Knightsbridge, to capture the right clientele. And it had to be instantly recognisable.
When, 30 years after the Peninsula group first started scoping sites in London, its new eight-storey hotel opened in September 2023, it was, as Kadoorie hoped, a one-off. Not only did it overlook Wellington Arch, with Apsley House and Hyde Park to the north and Buckingham Palace to the east, but it was unmistakably Asian.
Today, walk up to its doors, and they’re flanked by white marble statues of Chinese lions (which house a time capsule whose contents apparently include a copy of The Times). Arrive by cab in its Enzo Enea-designed central courtyard, and amid cascading ivy and wisteria stand two 120-year-old Japanese maples: the oldest, apparently, in Europe. Sit at the bar, and its counter is fashioned to resemble an old eastern apothecary’s office. And enjoy dim sum in the handsome Canton Blue restaurant, and you’re transformed into a world resembling the interior of a 19th-century junk trading Chinese treasures, from lacquer and musical instruments to multicoloured hand-painted porcelain.
The £1.1 billion hotel is owned by the Hong Kong and Shanghai Hotels group, but it is a very personal project for its chairman. Kadoorie is a car nut and owns several rare models, including an Aston Martin DB4 and a 1931 Bentley. Not only has he lent precious objects from his own collection, but used his connections to bring in a roster of beautiful motoring paraphernalia. Alongside two electric London taxis to ferry guests around, for instance, the hotel has also acquired four hybrid Bentleys and a handsome 1935 Rolls-Royce Phantom II Sedanca de Ville — with a cocktail cabinet, should passengers fancy a tipple en route. Next to the ground-floor lift gleams a rare classic car on loan from Brooklands racetrack and museum, alongside two of Kadoorie’s original Concorde pilots’ seats and plane nose (all being enthusiastically photographed by male admirers when I was there). Step into the lift, and it’s fashioned like a hot-air balloon with wicker sides, padded leather roof and even realistic blast-off sound effects.
And come out on the eighth floor and a delightful racing and aviation-themed world comes into view. For a start, a Claude Bosi-headed restaurant floored with a carpet bearing the constellations and a 14m Concorde model soaring on the roof. Then, private living rooms shaped like the inside of a racing car, complete with leather-upholstered bench-seat-style banquettes, and a bar roofed with a metal trellis inspired by the grille of a motor, and sporting bar-lights based on the rear brake light of the Rolls-Royce Phantom. Even the bar menu is motoring themed, with drinks categorised according to their strength (the Mach 1 Bentley, with whisky, plum and lapsang souchong tea has exactly the right amount of vroom).
Advertisement
By comparison, the 190 bedrooms — all designed by Peter Marino, whose USP is fashion boutiques from Armani to Zegna — are soothing (some would say bland), creamy pods of calm. Each is a spacious 51 to 59 sq m (or, if you take one of the four suites, up to 470 sq m) and oozes understated expense. Carpets are cream and sumptuous, with a thick pile that makes you want to sink your bare toes into it. The walk-in wardrobe, finished in glossy cherry wood, couldn’t be more thoughtfully fitted out: with glass-fronted drawers and a dressing table, satin and heavy oak hangers, a huge safe (for those with laptops as well as expensive handbags to lock away), and even a nail dryer. The pillows are enormous: half the width of a king-sized bed. And the bathrooms are walled in exquisite onyx — no common marble here — with Toto WCs, paraben-free amenities sweetly scented by British perfumer Timothy Han, and a spa setting that transforms the space into a dimly lit home spa, complete with soothing music. For guests in search of a cosseting home away from their mansion, rooms are cosy and comfortable — perhaps the Volvo of the hotel world, rather than the Aston Martin.
What the rooms lack in va-va-voom, the underground world that’s been dug four floors beneath ground level more than make up for. The ballroom — now one of the biggest in London, with lifts big enough to recently bring down 18 Aston Martins for a show — is both glamorous and timeless, all faded gold lacquer and wooden panels. The cinema is fitted with some of the most comfortable, wide armchairs on earth (with space for a cocktail and snack). Best of all, the spa has a gorgeous 25m pool (one of only three this big in a London hotel), lined with loungers either side, and so well lit that you’d never guess you were four floors underground. Just above is an enormous, beautifully designed wooden-panelled gym, open only to guests — so mercifully free of other sweaty people. (For a full review, see Best Spas in London.) And alongside there is a small but cosseting spa, with a little steam room and sauna. If you haven’t yet tried a Margy’s facial — which are, I’m told, hugely popular in Monte Carlo, and exclusive in the UK to the Peninsula — I’d recommend booking with Marlena, who massaged my jaw muscles so thoroughly that that night I had not only glowing skin, courtesy of a 90-minute cleanse and oxygenating session, but for one night didn’t grind my teeth.
Like Marlena, the other Peninsula staff were impeccable: a legion of polished young hoteliers, smartly kitted out in tailored Jenny Packham dresses and trouser suits. Their enthusiasm, sadly, couldn’t make up for the food: at Canton Blue, fairly lacklustre and oily; at breakfast, just plain odd. (Who serves three stalks of broccoli with bacon and eggs? And who, in this era of baristas and single-estate beans, still thinks it’s OK to deliver a silver pot of lukewarm pale dishwater and have the cheek to call it coffee?)
Most guests I spotted, however, seemed perfectly happy. When I was there, the lobby restaurant (an odd, high-ceilinged, white marble space dotted with uninspiring raspberry-coloured dining chairs) was full of visitors sporting designer shopping bags, speaking every language other than English, as the five-lane traffic just beyond the (thankfully) triple-glazed windows whizzed by and the live musician crooned upstairs on the white marble mezzanine balcony.
The Brits, I suspect, were upstairs at Brooklands — sipping Mach II-strength G&Ts, examining the motoring paraphernalia and revelling in the eighth-floor views over the twinkling lights of capital (for a review of the design, see London’s restaurant for petrolheads). This summer the roof terrace will open, with views over the garden at Buckingham Palace. With Bosi cooking the food and one of the most glamorous wood-panelled humidors in London adjoining the restaurant, those who want a regular table should get into gear now.
From £1,300 for a double, peninsula.com
