J E TS E T
A Night At The LANESBOROUGH
. sur la terre . jetset .
117
REGIONAL MANAGING EDITOR, JAMES MCCARTHY, EXPERIENCES THE “SUITE LIFE” AT THE LANESBOROUGH HOTEL IN LONDON.
T
here are hotels, and then, there are Hotels. For the wealthy traveller to London, it is easy to be swayed by the historic reputation of Claridge’s or the Dorchester, the two grand old dames of the capital’s hospitality landscape for more than a century, but they can somehow seem a little passé these days. No, for the iconoclast with cash to burn, the relatively youthful St. Regis-owned Lanesborough is nothing short of the perfect destination. While the hotel may be a mere pup in London-years, being open since just 1991, the building itself, perfectly situated on the ley line of luxury that borders Belgravia and Knightsbridge, has stood since the Victorian age which, along with its imposing Greek Regency facade, pillared entrance and bowlerhatted doormen standing sentinel on Hyde Park Corner, provide the necessary gravitas. Its aristocratic credentials are unquestionable. Built on the site of Lanesborough House, home to
the Earl of Lanesborough in the 1700s, the current structure was completed by renowned architect William Wilkins (who also built the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square) in 1844 and opened its doors as the 350-bed St George’s Hospital, acting as such until 1980. After a painstaking renovation under the auspices of the Royal Fine Arts Commission, the Georgian Society, the Victorian Society and English Heritage, the Lanesborough today is a paragon of 18th century elegance and discrete professionalism blended with all of the contemporary luxury one would expect from a Park Lane hotel. Personally, as a luxury lifestyle journalist, I have had the good fortune to be royally received and pampered by many of the world’s truly great hotels, from Brown’s of Mayfair, to the exceptional Cap Estel on the Côte D’Azur and, while each has offered a wonderful glimpse into a life of unadulterated luxury, none of my experiences had prepared me for the status and service that is afforded as a matter of course to any resident of The Lanesborough.
The Garden Room..
118
. sur la terre . jetset .
The devil, you see, is in the details. Once I had been received within the capacious and glorious, but tastefully opulent reception, I was escorted to the Buckingham Suite, a snip at £3,500 ($5,630) a night, and introduced to my Butler, who already knew my name and had set to work unpacking my case and arranging for my shirts to be pressed. As I walked into the spacious, multi-roomed, first floor residence, I was transported straight onto the set of Downton Abbey. The aged brass fixtures and fittings, including buttons for summoning “the help,” the elegant wood panelling and period antique furniture all contributed to the illusion. It also concealed a wealth of modern technology and luxury, from LCD TVs hidden behind gilt-framed artworks to Bose iPod docks nestled behind moveable panels, as well as every type of internet and power socket hidden in the specially-fitted top drawer of a vast, imposing, wooden leather-covered desk. The type of desk, one would imagine, at which Churchill would have sat while writing his letters to King George VI and taking in the
spectacular view of the Wellington Arch from the floor-to-ceiling bay window. My favourite first impression, though, was not the complimentary bottle of chilled Tattinger Champagne, but the personalised headed notepaper and calling cards, with my name and direct room number printed just below the hotel masthead. This in itself might seem a silly thing to notice amongst the comfort and luxury of the super king-sized bed, with its gazillion-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, or the flawlessly sumptuous Carrera marbled bathroom, but it demonstrated a truly personal touch, so easily lost in the hospitality industry, even at the highest level. In all of the elite hotels in which I have had the pleasure of hanging my metaphorical hat, I have never seen such attention to detail. To me, it sums up everything that is great about The Lanesborough, where you are not just another set of deep pockets, passing through one in a chain of luxury hotels. It feels more like being welcomed back into your own stately home after a long trip away.
The Living Room in the Buckinham Suite..
. sur la terre . jetset .
119
And what a well-appointed home it is. Among the amenities available are a world-class Spa Studio, offering the latest in La Prairie body and face treatments, as well as acclaimed male ministrations. For relaxation of a less salubrious, but no less enjoyable, nature there is either the Garden Room, an upmarket, but wonderfully understated al-fresco cigar lounge, offering a well-stocked humador and a veritable cornucopia of fine whiskies to enjoy them with, or the Library Bar, once rated “the best hotel bar in the world,” which houses a fine collection of vintage cognacs, as well as a menu brimming with signature cocktails. It was here where I met with Clare and Malin from Luchford APM, who handle The Lanesborough’s PR account and helped organise my stay, both looking dazzlingly glamourous in their stunning black gowns that, alas, were not for my benefit. The ladies were escorting renowned chef, Heinz Beck, to his latest awards ceremony. Beck is the brains behind The Lanesborough’s culinary pièce de résistance, Aspleys. It is not only the restaurant that gave Beck his fourth Michelin Star, but it is also the fastest-awarded Michelin Star in London, with Aspleys achieving the honour within four months of opening. After making my reservation personally, the effervescent Mr Beck, replete in black tie and dinner jacket, assured me over his glass of Champagne that I would enjoy my dinner and to try the carbonara fagottelli. With a wink and a handshake, flanked by his statuesque
120
The Bathroom (above left) and Bedroom in the Buckingham Suite..
It is the attention to the small details that sets The Lanesborough apart, like the personalised stationery..
. sur la terre . jetset .
Aspleys’ main dining room..
charges and looking for all the world like a retired James Bond, he was whisked away to the waiting Rolls-Royce and the satisfaction of landing another glittering award, while I retired to my room to dress for dinner. The first thing you notice as you step into the Aspleys dining room is the beautiful vaulted glass ceiling, punctuated by a trio of dramatic chandeliers. The main room is on two levels, with a sunken dining area framed by a raised, balcony-type floor for a more secluded and romantic setting. Off to either side of the main entrance, there are private dining areas for larger parties or those wishing for a more discrete, family dining experience. I was sitting on the balcony with the restaurant spread out before me, allowing me to enjoy the fine Venetian-inspired setting as well as the spectacular food. I started with the slow-cooked guinea fowl with wild mushrooms and a capuccino sauce and followed it up with fois gras terrine, smoked
apple and amaretti. The sommelier paired the wines with each course fantastically, delivering a glass of 2007 Muffato, a sweet, syrupy aromatic wine, bringing with it the euphoric scent of childhood summers and blossoming fruit trees. It danced playfully on the palette and worked in perfect concert with the wonderful blend of savoury and sweet provided by the fois gras. Again, the sommelier’s choice was exquisite, matching a full-bodied white wine with Aspleys’ signature carbonara fagottelli, as recommended by Beck himself. A bowl brimming with small parcels of pasta, each bulging with a carbonara sauce, was placed before me. When the first delicate parcel ruptured on my tongue, relieving itself of its creamy cargo, I was in epicurean heaven as each subsequent mouthful brought with it, literally, an explosion of flavour.
At The Lanesborough, you are not just another set of deep pockets, passing through one in a chain of luxury hotels. It feels more like being welcomed back into your own stately home after a long trip away.
Quite unadventurously, after weighing up the pigeon with crispy polenta, marinated figs and cauliflower against the fillet of beef
. sur la terre . jetset .
121
cooked in red wine with Radicchio Trevigiano, I opted for the latter. I was not disappointed. The tender meat and rich sauce was a supremely prepared and wonderful rendering of one of my favourite meals. For dessert, I chose the cryptically monikered “Milk,” which, it transpired, could be a meal in and of itself. Five different dishes, all with milk as the key ingredient, arrived to taunt my tumescent body. I felt like the corpulent Mr Creosote in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, facing the terminal prospect of “one, tiny, wafer-thin mint.” Bravely soldiering on, I endeavoured to at least taste each act in the decidedly alabaster culinary opera laid out before me, until I was finally forced to succumb to my satiated body. I decided a brisk walk in the crisp London air was needed to ease the digestion of my fantastic repast, so I headed out for a stroll around the fringes of Green Park. My circular route brought me to the door of trendy London nightspot, Whisky Mist, a favourite among young Royals and high-rolling City bankers alike, and a mere 10-minute walk from the hotel. A couple of healthily-priced measures of 18-year-old Glenlivet later and I was already yearning for my stately refuge, so back into the cold November night I ventured, passing a myriad supercar dealerships as my hot breath formed fleeting wraiths against the frozen air. As I walked onward towards the welcoming embrace of The Lanesborough, the knowledge that my faithful butler would be waiting with my robe and slippers, a potent nightcap and my bed turned down, filled me with a satisfied warmth.
Aspleys’ signature carbonara fagottelli ..
As I slid between the sheets of the marshmallowy soft bed and waited for sleep to cascade over me, my feeling of contentment was pricked by twinge of melancholy. The sadness that The Lanesborough has forever skewed my perspective of what luxury accommodation should be like and that, the following morning, after my (perfectly prepared) poached eggs on toast, I would be leaving it behind. My work will always propel me to destinations of a reputed five-star calibre, but, as I said before, there are hotels and then there are Hotels... and then there is The Lanesborough.
Aspleys is the brainchild of Michelin-starred chef, Heinz Beck (right) ..
122
. sur la terre . jetset .