Review: The Chancery Rosewood, London

Rosewood’s arrival into London hasn’t exactly been a fairytale. Their first move was reflagging the Holborn property — now Rosewood London — which sits in a forgettable location and has never troubled any of the “top hotels” lists that pass for journalism these days.

But that was always the warm-up act.

The real plan has been quietly simmering for years.  Seven of them, in fact. Ever since the old U.S. Embassy shut its doors and the scaffolding went up, this corner of Mayfair has been preparing for its transformation into a proper flagship. It finally opened in September, and for Rosewood, this is the one that matters.

And there’s plenty of history here, both official and personal.  It’s right next to The Connaught — where I used to stay weekly, where my wife worked in management, and where I’ve walked past this building more times than I can count, wondering when the doors would finally open.  I love this location.  I’d argue it’s the best in London.  And with the park out front being redeveloped for 2026, it’s only going to get better.

Getting there

Let’s start with the car service.  I appreciate it’s outsourced, but this was the antithesis of luxury purely through its sheer, staggering inefficiency.  It took nearly 15 minutes to get to the car because the driver had… lost her car.  Lost.  Her.  Car.  I adore London, but nowhere in Zone 1 is large enough to misplace a Mercedes V Class.

It would’ve been significantly faster to grab a taxi, sprint, or commandeer a passing horse and carriage.  And then, once we finally arrived at the hotel, no one had any idea who we were, despite us arriving in their own car.  Really should be better.

Setting

The kind of place you’d actually want to stroll around rather than power-walk through to avoid being mowed down by a G-Wagon – although there’s lots of those too.

Facilities

The lobby is like a goddamn work of art.  But in a strange way, I feel so many places are now designed to be seen, rather than experience it.  They’re not designed to live in.  So whilst you enter it, and stare at it, and admire it, it’s a bit more like an art exhibition rather the soul of a hotel lobby. The hotel is a floor up from ground level.  You are literally looking down on people as they walk past, which you can make of as you wish. It just makes the experience feel somewhat disconnected.

The real showstopper is the spa tucked away in the basement.  The flagship piece being the stunning 25m long pool, heated to perfection, with loungers around that just beg you to spend the whole day there.  Alas, kids’ swimming hours run from 8:30–10:30 AM and again from 4–5 PM, which ensures no small humans are cannonballing over your copy of the Financial Times.  But I have said kids, so I was restricted when I could visit.

The adults-only hydrotherapy area is beautifully done: an even more perfectly heated pool, four warm relaxation beds, sauna, steam room, and a cold plunge that shows everyone what a man you are.  Easily one of London’s best.

The gym spans two rooms and is essentially TechnoGym’s flagship showroom.

Food and Beverage

I’m sure many of you are here for Carbone gossip, but let’s be clear: it’s not part of the hotel, and anywhere with that much attention usually ends with a £98 bowl of pasta and deep regrets.

Instead, let me tell you about the hotel.

I actually think that GSQ, their café with outdoor seating, is the real flagship. It’s cute.  The menu is very cafe focused: pastries, salads, sandwiches.  But it has this gigantic terrace near the hotel entrance, that it already makes the hotel feel a bit more alive.  Pastry-wise, I’d still rather be at The Connaught, but theirs is so tiny and claustrophobic you panic-buy a croissant and leg it. GSQ feels like a place you could sit all day, heated terrace included. And if you’re into people-watching, this is an excellent perch to gain an insight into the Mayfair species.

Serra is the main restaurant, Mediterranean leaning. The menu felt a bit limited for my preferences, but everything we ordered was excellent. And I love the little details these new hotels throw in, like the soft, felt-like menu covers. Does it matter? No. Do I enjoy it? Absolutely.

Jacqueline is afternoon tea only, which is a bold choice given the floor space. Afternoon tea was invented to keep restaurants busy between lunch and dinner, yet here it’s the entire proposition.  We never tried it, because I don’t like paying a 10x multiplier on sandwiches and sugar, but the space looks nice.

The Eagle Bar is up on the roof and perfectly pleasant, but if you’re chasing a view, head to The Emory or The Peninsula.

The real limitation for families is simply choice. With kids, there’s basically one proper restaurant. We ended up going out on the second night, which is hardly a hardship when The Connaught is two minutes away. I had all these notes ready about the lack of options… then discovered Tobi Masa is actually à la carte — it just wasn’t open on our departure day. My bad. So yes, there are two restaurants.

And my kids are annoyingly good eaters. They’ll demolish sushi like it’s crack and possess an uncanny radar for identifying the most expensive thing on any menu — and suddenly becoming very enthusiastic about it.  We went on a patisserie crawl (as you do) hitting The Connaught, here, and The Dorchester, ordering everything in order to teach my kids a valuable lesson about moderation or something.

Room

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: no Toto. I knew this going in, but I still won’t forgive them. Ever.  Oh, but then I see our Premier Grosvenor Suite?  Ok, maybe I’ll let them off.  Just a bit.  Seeing that this is actually one of their lower-end suites, and we’re not even close to Signature Suite level, it was very, very nice.

The décor is quite something.  When I saw the pre-opening previews, I thought it looked like a lighter Beaumont, but it’s clear it’s several steps above that.  Large windows frame the suite, and Lucie spent half the stay peering out, very ready to start a murder mystery podcast based solely on watching the neighbours. Yes, real people live nearby.

The suite itself feels more like an apartment.  A huge living area, a proper entrance hallway, and a bathroom placed between the bedroom and living room.  With the sliding doors tucked away, the entire space opens up beautifully.  It’s a clever layout, and it works. Yes, there’s a proper hallway at the entrance.  Why?  Because.

Overall, the whole suite has a warm, feeling of a place to spend time in. It really is like a home, not a meticulously designed showroom.  It’s elegant without being a soulless design exercise. A genuinely lovely place to spend time.

The minibar is extremely generous (everything except alcohol) and an absolute work of art, with hidden compartments that keep revealing more and more.  And the whole room is refreshingly low-tech compared to somewhere like The Peninsula — no iPads, just actual buttons and printed menus.  Bliss.

The bedroom is on the smaller side.  I’ve noticed this more and more with newer openings.  For most guests it’s fine, but with young kids who insist on sleeping in the same room as us (because the living room of any new hotel apparently contains ghosts), it becomes an almighty squeeze.  At least there are plugs and USB-C and A next to the bed, and sensible light switches including a master — plus more switches on each side of the bed, the old-school up-and-down kind.  A rare win for the anti-iPad brigade.

The living room is where the suite really shines.  There’s a large dining table with six incredibly comfy chairs that make you want to actually sit and linger, not perch awkwardly.  The padded coffee table, sofa, and two chairs face the TV in a way that feels lived-in rather than showroom-staged.  It’s a space designed to be used, not photographed.  And I love how the bathroom sits between the living room and bedroom, creating a real sense of separation while keeping the whole suite feeling open and connected. The bathroom is full white marble and looks the tits, with a guest toilet tucked by the entrance because someone clearly understood the assignment.

A few tech details could be improved.  A built-in wireless charger by the bed wouldn’t kill them; proper on-TV movies would be great (at the moment it’s “stream your own device”); and the light switches are impossible to find at night, though the alternative — glowing in your face like a UFO — is worse.  And yes, I would have preferred Toto toilets everywhere.  Scream it with me, Gary Oldman style: eveeerywhere.    

And restock the minibar more often.  Or don’t.  My arteries and my greed are still debating that one.

Service

I’d already met Michael Bonsor, the Managing Director, several times at various Rosewood events, but recently at a Condé Nast gathering I asked if the hotel would be ready.  He said yes.  So here we are.  I took him at his word.

Turns out my wife used to work with their Reservations Manager back when she was at The Connaught, which I suppose makes this whole thing feel less like booking a hotel and more like showing up to a family reunion you didn’t know you’d been invited to.  They even sent an itinerary.  For a city hotel.  An actual itinerary, as if I needed reminding of where the front door was.  Quite something.  I liked it.

Anywho, back to matters at hand.

With a suite comes a butler, and ours immediately added us to a WhatsApp group — always the correct move.  The convenience is unmatched.  We had two butlers over the stay and both were genuinely excellent, looking after us.

But let’s cut the shit: is everything perfect?  Of course not.  But for a two-month-old hotel, there’s a genuinely lovely atmosphere of kindness and warmth that tells you it’s all going to be absolutely fine.

Plenty of staff wished me happy birthday, which was sweet.  They booked us a restaurant off-property and arranged two complimentary glasses of champagne.  I mean, I don’t drink, but at least it shows GDPR is working and they didn’t steal my preference list from another hotel.  And when we got back from the theatre, there was a multi-layer Matilda chocolate cake waiting in the room.  First of all, it was delicious, but more importantly, it was very effective at shutting up small children past bedtime.

My issues aren’t with things they didn’t attempt — they’re all things they did try to do but executed a bit wobbly.

Case in point: the kids’ milkshakes.  Our butler explained he hadn’t brought the kids a welcome drink yet because he wanted to check what they wanted.  Fair enough.  We ordered milkshakes.  And waited.  And waited.  And then had to sign a bill for them, which, to their credit, they removed before we asked.  Even my normally saintly children (fine, demons) were pacing around asking where their drinks were.  But to show how over the top everything was, Michael (off premise at the time) emailed to apologise — apparently we were the first guests ever to order milkshakes, which feels exactly on brand for my life.

Then there’s the popcorn.  They love offering it.  We love accepting it.  It just arrives at a speed that suggests someone is foraging for kernels in the Cotswolds.

But these really are minor teething issues.  The service overall stood out.  Sure, it’s not yet at that “everyone recognises us” level you may get in Raffles London or The Beaumont, but Serra was excellent, and both the butler team and the concierge were genuinely lovely throughout.

Kids Friendly

Yep, they did it.  Both kids received eagle soft toys (thank God — some hotels only give one, which immediately becomes a reenactment of Fight Club), backpacks, a little gift and a colouring book themed to the hotel, which was actually really well put together.

It isn’t as child-friendly as The Peninsula, simply because of the restricted swimming hours and the kids not being allowed in the hot tub/hydro areas.  At Peninsula, anything goes — I’m pretty sure they’d let your kid play with the knives in the kitchen if they asked nicely.

The Good

• Value for money (yeah, really)
• Food

The Bad

• Did I mention the Toto?

The Luxurious

• Location
• Rooms
• Spa

Conclusion

We are extremely blessed in London to have such a wealth of new options, and Rosewood is yet another great option. It’s not perfect — no two-month-old hotel is — but the attitude is wonderful and the hard product is excellent.  Alongside Raffles and The Emory, this is one of the rare launches that’s landed well.

The perks are also very strong, and very similar to what The Emory offered at launch, before slowly trimming the good bits. Hopefully Rosewood resists that temptation.

The standout is the complete freedom from check-in and checkout times. It genuinely felt like staying at a resort. On our departure day we left around 2pm and, blissfully, did not receive the usual “can we help with your luggage?” calls every fifteen minutes that make you feel like you’re being escorted off the premises.

You also get free transfers to and from the train station or airport, plus a minibar that’s actually free and actually stocked. And when you look at everything included, the overall price of staying here feels surprisingly reasonable.  Well, reasonable by 2025 London standards.

Should you expect the same flurry of gifts, upgrades, and general joy of service every time?  Probably not.  But it worked for me.  I would and will return.