Hotel Hit Squad: Two small children in a £2,900-a-night suite? What could go wrong? At Rosewood London it all went perfectly
It was our 10th wedding anniversary a few weeks ago, a significant accomplishment I think you’ll agree. Can you imagine spending 10 years with a man – sorry, monster – who does not like room service?
What kind of deviant prefers to dress, tie their laces and walk downstairs to breakfast rather than slurp it in bed, in pyjamas and in front of the television? Well, you can change a man. It just takes 10 years and, errr… £2,900 a night.
Rosewood London radiates exclusivity. You hear it in the purr of the Bentleys that turn directly off High Holborn, through its ornamental gates and into its monumental Edwardian stone courtyard. You see it written into the walls – adorned with rose bronze and a cool £40 million in marble – and the impeccable but inscrutable décor. Most of all, you find it on the price tag, guaranteeing that guests only ever brush up against softly scented cashmere despite the hotel’s position right in the sour-smelling scuffle of central London.
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Yet, mysteriously, Rosewood wants to welcome children. It has just launched two new attractions to reel in more of this notoriously noisy clientele – a children’s Art Afternoon Tea and a Pie Masterclass experience. Both of which sound… messy.
My kids joined a group of just six for the latter, a hands-on workshop supervised by three of the hotel’s pastry chefs in its famous Pie Room – all copper, marble and library ladders, from which the legendary pies are served. For two hours they sifted, rolled, dolloped and dusted their own apple pies and sausage rolls. It costs £65 per personalised-apron-clad, chi-chi-chef-hat-topped child. Even this cynic has to admit it was worth it, for the enthusiasm, skills and sweet pastries with which they left.
Can the same be said for the rest of our stay? In the run-up, we devoted hours to imagining what could make £2,900 a night in the family suite “decent value”. Give it a go, it’s a fun game to play with friends and family.
Rosewood met many of the kids’ wildest dreams. They were treated like royalty (possibly because many of the other children staying genuinely were) and wherever we went, the staff knew their names and stopped to chat. Their bedroom was bigger than our sitting room at home, with a queen-sized bed for each of them and pillows – wait for it – monogrammed with their initials.
Jelly sweets sat under a glass cloche. Chocolates bore the hotel’s signature British bulldog. A water-spouting penguin from Hamleys waited beside their own marble bath.
In the Holborn Dining Room (an art-deco brasserie serving modern British food – cut to the pie menu and thank me later) they were given virgin mojitos and a quiz book based on London landmarks and the hotel’s history. At afternoon tea in the second of Rosewood’s four restaurants (the very glossy Mirror Room), their Children’s Art Afternoon Tea came on a palette, with lemon curd to squeeze from a paint tube.
The coddled critics’ two criticisms? One: no swimming pool (though the subterranean spa does children’s treatments, and I snagged the truly exceptional Maison Caulières massage and Face Place facial for myself).
Two: the butler attached to our suite. They imagined Jeeves, standing to attention, ready to pour bubble baths and bottomless Coca-Colas. In truth, the service is more prosaically summoned from in-room phones (or via WhatsApp) like a personalised concierge service. Given their already indefensible over-spoiling, this was probably for the best.
But did the suite match our grown-up expectations? The hotel’s Grade II listed status meant our sitting room was distinctly bijou. Our bedroom was also significantly more snug than the children’s. Then there’s the décor. Black and white striped carpets, lots of black lacquered surfaces and expanses of white panelled wall, unadorned by art. It’s either business chic, or a little bare, depending on your take.
But oh dear God: the bathroom. A suite of rooms in itself, with two elegant sinks, a separate powder room, a marble shower room and – beside the bath – a leather holster housing a remote, turning one wall into a TV and sound system that magics up “dad rock” albums of your dreams.
Thus on Sunday morning I found myself celebrating 10 years of marriage by dancing to the Rolling Stones, with a room-service almond croissant in one hand and a space-age hairdryer in the other, while my eight-year-old sank his head below the surface of the bath water to escape his embarrassment. It may have been wrong, but it felt so very good.
A family of four can stay at Rosewood from £670 a night; a family suite costs from £2,900. Children’s Art Afternoon Tea from £35; Pie Masterclass £65 per child.
Read the full hotel review: Rosewood London
