“Oh, I think you’re going to be very happy,” confided our twinkly-eyed check in host. I was feeling fairly jolly already, having entered the hallowed Foyer from Brook Street and turned left instead of right, rather like turning the same direction when boarding a plane. Being a guest at Claridge’s is quite a different thing to enjoying a pre-dinner cocktail in the eponymous bar or quiet postprandial in the Fumoir. You’re now part of the fabric. But back to the check-in. Ushered upstairs by the wonderfully efficient Sarah from guest relations, we found ourselves on the eighth floor making for the Mews Pavilion.

The art deco jewel that is Claridge’s London

Over the past several years Claridge’s has undergone a substantial renovation, extending upwards by three floors – there are now 269 rooms and suites ranging from the superior to The Penthouse and my personal favourite The Residence: a twostorey apartment with its own infinity jacuzzi on the balcony. Some 700 staff are employed to cater to guests’ every need and keep this luxurious behemoth’s service shipshape. As well as going up, the renovation work created a spa in the basement of the hotel, including a pool, treatment rooms and a hairdresser, which is open to residents and non-residents.

Art Deco delight

The Mews Pavilion (which can be joined to a sister suite to create the Mews Terrace) proved to be as happy-making as predicted. It comes with not only suitably swoon-worthy views of the city skyscape and inimitable art deco design but its own Steinway piano (I dredged up Chopsticks and a rudimentary Good King Wenceslas off the top of my head), its own Turkish steam room and a butler on call. Everything about the suite is made to exacting specifications and it took a grand total of 45 minutes before we were contemplating how to splurge the inheritance (if we get it) on staying at Claridge’s more regularly. My father-in-law was a great fan of the hotel, and would stay whenever he was in town, but I did wonder if the refurbishment might have jettisoned the crowd who look to Claridge’s as a lunching, dining cocktail-hour, annual sort of treat. I need not have worried. If the marker of a place is bumping into people you know, then Claridge’s performed superlatively, and threw Michael McIntyre and Bill Nighy in free of charge as fellow diners in the newly made-over Claridge’s restaurant.

Dining

Previously home to other high-profile chefs and ventures, it is now being run in-house, and they are doing a splendid job. An elegant tribute to art deco, the dining room boasts racing-green leather banquettes, stained glass, low-lit lamps on each table and curving brasswork, which all adds to the rather sensual glamour of the place: one can be as discreet or ebullient as required. Food is the sort of fare that would have beckoned The Wolseley crowd in its heyday, though a little pricier, and the service was just right. A sommelier provided spot-on recommendations for wine to accompany our chosen dishes (steak tartare and turbot on the bone) and the Claridge’s service had swung into motion, alerting the room to our raison d’etre, and a cute anniversary pudding arrived at our table alongside a delicious chocolate soufflé tart. Exemplary.

The bar at Claridge’s

It seemed churlish to linger too long when the Mews Pavilion beckoned, and we left the bar and the Fumoir to revisit another day, returning to our own in-room cocktail party with a wardrobe-sized minibar that housed a myriad of goodies. Next morning, breakfast was discreetly delivered to our room and arranged on the dining table. It made it hard to pack and continue our travels – we had started to feel quite at home. As our unfashionably dirty car hoved into view, conspicuous with its country mud patina against its shinier London brethren, a taxi pulled up and a pair of tasselled leather loafers descended on to the pavement. It was a sporting acquaintance carrying an overnight bag. “Just popping in for lunch before heading north to shoot,” he revealed on his way in. That defines what Claridge’s is, and what makes a great London hotel (recently voted as the number one hotel in the UK). It’s a treat, it’s a destination and it’s pleasingly constant. In short, simply nobody does it better.

Subscribe to The Field magazine for monthly hotel and restaurant reviews and save money on the cover price.