Victorian charm: An iconic double-decker bus going past No.11 Cadogan Gardens, a boutique hotel in London that was built in 1888. The hotel is within easy reach of a tube station, buses and theatre. - MCT
Go on the historical trail in one of the world’s most popular cities.
If you want to sleep through to breakfast, fasten your seat belt over your blanket now,” said Liana, the flight attendant, refilling my water bottle. “If we experience turbulence over Greenland, you have to … ,” she said, her voice fading away. But I was already half-asleep. The next thing I remember was climbing into a taxi and telling the driver to go to Knightsbridge. Somewhere along the way, I fell down Alice’s rabbit hole and landed in Victorian London, waking up in a 126-year-old, red-brick row house at 11 Cadogan Gardens, in Chelsea.
But my fourth floor digs weren’t the drafty garret you’d expect a writer to occupy. Real starving artists, writers of socialist tracts or poetry for the ages, may have found inspiration in cold rooms and bowls of gruel. And that’s not me. Nor was it the style at either of the two hotels I stayed at last April, the Rosewood Hotel, on High Holborn, and 11 Cadogan Gardens, near Sloane Square.
In some towns, and for some travellers, a hotel is just a bed. But not in this ancient capital, a city of a dozen distinct neighbourhoods. The hotel where you eat breakfast, catch up on e-mail, write postcards and linger over an after-dinner brandy will reflect its history. And some will stick to you, too.
At 11 Cadogan Gardens, a 54-room boutique hotel, Victorian sensibilities reign. Built in 1888, the heyday of the British Empire, the hotel had been updated now and again. But it remains so determinedly low-profile that, except for the occasional reporter’s leak, the guest list depends on word of mouth. The red-haired charmer in the adjacent suite could be an Oscar winner or a rich widow. The man with the moustache: A Disney animator or a corporate tycoon.
The Rosewood Hotel is near the well-known Drury Lane, Covent Garden, Fleet Street, Bloomsbury, the Inns of Court and the British Museum.
“We’re quite popular with novelists,” said John, in reception. “But they’re just a private guest when they’re here with us.”
My two-room retreat literally breathed Empire at its best. The high ceilings, the decorative mouldings and the wobbly doors are original, as are the sash windows, easy to open when you need a breath of fresh air. The bathroom is definitely old-school with a tub big enough for two. Area rugs hide some of the floor’s creaky, black-painted boards, nicked here and there, as bare floors always are.
11 Cadogan Gardens is located near Sloane Square in London's Knightbridge area.
But newer than tomorrow are the creature comforts: Patterned wing chairs, a plump canopy bed with a new mattress, satin quilts, cotton sheets and feather pillows. The colour scheme, a contemporary decorator’s choice, run from soft grey and pale brown to silver and black, with billowy drapes, mirrored closet doors, and matching sofa and chairs. What would Queen Victoria think, I wondered, inspecting the bright lights, the television, the safe and the Internet access.
A canopy bed is the centerpiece of this small suite, at 11 Cadogan Gardens.
Beyond the window, green tree branches filtered the sunlight, speckling the gated and fenced garden below – a private space for residents only. A resident myself, for the duration, I sat on a bench under a cherry tree, sketched the scene and watched a couple of laughing children toss a ball.
With dusty portraits climbing the stairwell and a library full of leather-bound tomes, there was much to see. At 8pm, I dined in the hotel’s cellar restaurant, where the menu offered fresh English ingredients prepared with an Italian-Asian flair. I wasn’t the only one the chef impressed; by 9, the maitre d’ was turning away patrons who’d neglected to make reservations.
Beds at the Rosewood Hotel in London are dressed in Rivolta Carmignani Italian linens and a choice of pillow types. (Steve Haggerty/MCT)
Queen Victoria shadowed me as I visited her former haunts: Kensington Palace, where she was raised; and Buckingham Palace, where she watched the Changing of the Guard from the window. I watched it from outside the fence.
She came to mind as I explored the Victoria and Albert Museum’s eclectic collections. From glassware to ceramics and fabrics to tile; from Greek and Roman statuary to Renaissance “cartoons”, the V&A had it all.
Why was the bust made from Henry VII’s death mask on display? A tribute to Tudor history, perhaps. How surprising it was that he looked nothing like the portraits of his famous son, Henry VIII.
High Holborn Street in London, where The Rosewood Hotel is located, occupies a former Roman road. (Steve Haggerty/MCT)
The next day, I moved to the Rosewood Hotel, in a seven-storey, Grade II-listed, “Belle Epoque” building on High Holborn, and found myself in a different, older London. The neighbourhood, “The City”, predates the Victorian West End and is closer to Westminster Abbey, Covent Garden and the theatre district, and to the Inns of Court.
The building itself is newer, built in 1914 for an insurance company. But after a US$144mil (RM471.02mil) restoration and renovation, the magnificent Edwardian-Palladian façade and 35m cupola are a perfect fit for the Rosewood Hotel group’s brand of luxury.
As taken as I was with the gated entrance and inner courtyard, I was even more impressed with the contemporary design inside the hotel, especially on the ground floor, where glass and brass combine for a burst of luminosity. Transparent and translucent panels replace solid walls and are used for partitions and passageways. Glass enhances indirect light, glitters from chandeliers and warms backlit display shelves for objets d’arts.
The Holborn Dining room, an upscale brasserie, lively and bright, is already a neighbourhood favourite for lunch and dinner. Serving traditional British dishes, the chef relies on fresh and farm-to-table meats, cheeses and vegetables, turning tired recipes into exciting new dishes. I spent a lively evening here dining on rare roast beef, and, between courses, deconstructing the menu with a friendly waiter.
“This used to be the insurance company’s East Banking Hall,” he told me, after describing the “charcuterie board” and the “Cornish slip soles”. “Huge, isn’t it?” he went on, waving a hand at the scattering of oak tables and chairs, and at the rows of red, leather-upholstered booths near the bar.
Poking around on the west side of the building, I found the Lobby Lounge, a clubby kind of room with walls of bookcases, sofas and wing chairs, an extensive, mirror-backed bar and a banquet-sized fireplace.
The décor in my second-floor studio suite – one of 262 guest rooms and 44 suites – was a lesson in minimalism done right. The colours were neutral but warm; the chairs simple but sleek; the tables plain but well-built, and the enormous bathroom, functional but lavish, all mirrors and marble. Small stacks of coffee- table books, photo collections and atlases sat on several tables, an instant invitation to any reader.
I didn’t see the hotel’s largest suite, the six-bedroom Grand Manor House Wing, with 587sqm of space and a private elevator for access. It comes with a personal butler, a concierge, and cocktail and snack menu. Now, that’s my style. The next time I’m in London with 25 friends, I’ll see if it’s down the rabbit hole. — McClatchy-Tribune News Service
http://www.thestar.com.my/Travel/Europe/2014/10/11/Revisiting-Londons-Victorian-past/
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