The Draycott Hotel - Review

ARRIVING ON A RAIN-SOAKED winter's night proved the perfect time to get to The Draycott. Stepping inside to a world of warm fires, glowing lamps and solicitous staff was like manna from heaven. As we burst inside from the elements, our bags were whisked upstairs and two glasses of chilled champagne apppeared as if by divine telepathy.

Guests can't help but love The Draycott. Three grand, redbrick Edwardian townhouses have been knocked together to create this quintessentially British hotel that feels rather like the home of a splendidly wealthy uncle. Its entrance marked by an ever-so-discreet brass plaque, this is an intimate luxury hotel tucked in a corner of Chelsea that mixes old-style charm with fullsome creature comforts.

Inside, you're into The Draycott's comfort zone of sink-into-me sofas, antique prints and cosy fireplaces. The drawing room looks out onto leafy Cadogan Gardens – perfect for summer wanders, while an informal lobby lounge invites you to kick back.

Splashes of Edwardiana

Guests at The Draycott get supremely spoilt. Not just by the cossetting staff, for whom we soon discovered nothing’s too much trouble, but by complimentary treats laid on throughout the day. In the best of English traditions, there’s tea and biscuits at four, a glass of champagne on the house at six and late-night hot chocolate from ten to see you off to beddy-byes.

Our vast bedroom – the Ashcroft – was all grand Edwardiana with high ceilings, a cosy sofa and a fire (already lit) dancing in the grate. There was also a balcony from where we could gaze over the private gardens at the rear – The Draycott's secret trump card – thinking how gorgeous they would look on a spring afternoon.

Big beds (custom-made for the hotel), crisp Sea Island cotton bedlinen, burnished antiques, swagged curtains, silk pleated lamps and plenty of plump pillows are matched by marble bathrooms loaded with Penhaligon body-pampering stuff. You’ll even find a beautifully scripted hand-written card with your name on the door.

Bedrooms also have a touch of theatre: each takes its name from a big literary or stage name, with prints, photographs and a miniature biography. You can get under the covers with Sheridan, Coward, Christie and Olivier, then dip into the leather bound Visitor’s book and find out who has slept in your bed before you. Various Hollywood A-listers are known to call this place home in London (though staff at The Draycott are the soul of discretion), so you never know what you'll find.

With rain lashing at the windows, plans for a night out in Chelsea were rapidly abandoned and we happily bunkered down for the night with a DVD and a room service supper. A deliciously pink rack of lamb (me) and a mushroom stroganoff (my wife) arrived 20 minutes later with a bottle of Chablis on ice. All blissfully followed by our night under a featherlight goosedown duvet.

You're right in the heart of Sloane country here and just a cab ride from tLondon's West End. With the glitzy stores of Sloane Street, King’s Road and Knightsbridge on our doorstep, and a new-found glint in my wife's eyes, I could tell my plastic was in for a caning.


The Draycott Hotel was reviewed for Room for Romance by Mark MacGee