Hotel of the Week: Mercer Street Hotel, London

Covent Garden has changed beyond recognition since I was young and hip(ish) and I guess the hotels have had to move in sync. With every second shop being a cosmetic boutique, I realised I may be one of the last women standing who still grabs a new eyeliner from the supermarket makeup concessions. This place is seriously cool, where the clientele have plenty of disposal income and know about style. Something I dip my toe into every now and then. Still, free of the kids and on a rare trip away with a friend, I tried to feign it as much as possible.

The Mercer Street hotel – or to give it its full title, the Radisson Blu Edwardian Mercer Street Hotel – is in a fantastic location, right bang in the middle of everywhere in London you could possibly want to be and on the corner of the uber-chic (or so I’m told) ‘Seven Dials Village’.

It’s walking distance from Charing Cross, the Thames, Covent Garden with oodles of shops and markets, Trafalgar Square,  Soho, museums, Leicester Square, Theatreland and the West End shows – with ‘Matilda the Musical’ literally opposite at the Cambridge theatre, and many more a toddle down Shaftesbury Avenue. How anyone needs a car in London, I don’t know.

The building may have been there for years but it has evolved under Radisson’s ownership since 1985 culminating in the £15 million refurbishment and name change in 2011. It has left the Mercer Street Hotel resembling more of an art gallery than a hotel foyer on first impressions. There’s the huge gold sofa that wouldn’t look out of place in a palace, a couple of gold sheep milling around and various other arty sculptures. There’s also a pleasant background scent – a bit like cocoa butter – which can get a bit overpowering. Luckily it stayed in the reception.

We were upgraded to a king-sized suite which came as a relief as it was still pretty compact and bijoux. A night away on our own could have been very intimate in a standard double. The rooms are beautifully decorated with stunning art and bold colours – each with a unique identity. The bathroom had all the necessities but the sink overhung the toilet and all in all there wasn’t room to swing the proverbial cat. Functional though and let’s not forget, this is central London and you’re paying for the location and not the square footage. Some of the rooms also look substantially bigger.

The staff were very friendly and helpful. We were welcomed on arrival, offered a pre-dinner nibble and had our covers turned down and water replenished while we ate dinner. The Dial Bar and Restaurant and bar are nicely kitted out with a mix of local clientele and overnight guests leaving it less sterile than most London hotels.  And who can blame them? – the food is fantastic and the location is ideal. It’s also a great place to hang out and watch the world go by.

Having savoured every mouthful of what was very rich fine dining, we had to dash off before our pudding.  The staff made sure we didn’t miss out, resurrecting the crème brulee on our return as the kitchen was still open at 10.30pm.  It was worth the wait and tasted all the better for the energetic march up and down Shaftesbury Avenue.

Luckily I still woke up to an appetite and managed to eat a full English breakfast on top of the fruit, pastry and everything-else-you-could-imagine buffet. Breakfast was a pricey £24- but I imagine I’m out of touch as it was buzzing with executives and breakfast meetings alongside the more relaxed looking guests.

It’s all change in the kitchen though as we were told on good authority – via the chef – that the hotel is about to launch a traditional British menu with the likes of cottage pie and bangers and mash. No one offers British fare in the area giving the hotel a real USP and I’m sure that kind of comfort food will be a welcome change for the local suits looking for some home-cooked food as well as the overnight tourists.

All in all, the hotel was everything I wanted and more. As I emerged the next day homeward bound I felt a tinge of sadness as the ‘uber chic’ was replaced by railway coffee, suburbia and a massive to-do list.

By Diane Evans