The Ned is the ideal city escape.
I was a city mouse for fifteen years. I lived in New York and London, worked in fashion, walked quickly (in heels), and always felt high from the anxious buzz of city life. I loved it all. Then the pandemic hit, I had a baby and suddenly big city life was no longer quite so desirable or even, frankly, possible. I moved with my family to a sleepy beach town in Scotland. I slowed down to live at a pace close to that which I used to seek on vacation.
And it stayed that way.
Now, when I need a break, I need a break from sand everywhere and people who dress like they’re ready to go camping at any given moment. I love this new life, but sometimes I miss fashion, nice restaurants, and heels clicking on smooth floors. I cannot be alone in this. People all over the world jumped ship from busy cities and there must be a small part of everyone that misses their former city lives. When I lived in those big cities year-round, the thought of spending vacation time in another busy hot city was unappealing.
But now–oh, the novelty!
And so, I write in praise of the city break in a beautiful hotel. I chose The Ned in central London which promised that much longed-for city buzz, all wrapped up in the soothing cocoon of a luxury hotel. The perfect combination for a tired mum longing for the big city.
The Ned is a vast ship of a hotel, containing six (six!) restaurant options, two pools, a spa, many bars, and endless corners in which to luxuriate amongst velvet and dark wood. Some of these areas–the rooftop pool and bar, for example–are exclusive to Ned Members. You see, the Ned also functions as a private members club akin to Soho House (and owned under the same umbrella and offering the same exclusive lifestyle). Even as a non-member without “access all areas”, this hotel has everything you could need for every mood and whim. It feels like something of a home away from home (if I were very, very wealthy that is).
Recommended Fodor’s Video
Which is to say: I did not leave this hotel for 24 hours. Why would I? The Ned is a city of its own.
The Ned occupies a grand former bank–an “architectural masterpiece”–which was created in 1924 and takes up almost an entire city block. Walking into the atrium–the 33,000-square-foot former banking hall–I let the majestic emerald green columns, palms, and marble envelop me. The space feels endless but also intimate. The energy thrums with rich people doing things (whatever it is they do). The architecture has the elegance of a grand railway station from an old Hollywood movie. I expect people to be tipping hats and wearing gloves, weeping silently as they bid farewell to the loves of their lives. They aren’t, of course, but the expensive style on display is a heaven-sent world away from flip-flops and raincoats. A balm for my eyes. It reminds me of the bank scene from Mary Poppins, and I feel briefly like the country mouse I have become–almost as small and scruffy as those children rattling around such majestic surroundings.
There is an old-fashioned and ringing opulence that feels soothing and safe. A man tinkles away on a grand piano. Many businessmen in suit trousers and pale blue shirts make deals over martinis (The Ned is situated in the financial center of London and the clientele is largely reflective of this). It is a blazingly hot day outside, but The Ned is an ecosystem of its own. A cool, dark, and very well-appointed cave, filled with people working, eating, drinking. City people doing busy things! The place feels special and I, am special in it.
Our room is also cave-like but what it lacks in natural light it compensates with a spacious bathroom, luxuriously deep porcelain bath, and powerful rain shower. The bed is large and comfortable, the bedding heavenly soft. There are velvet sofas for lingering and an actual teapot for making proper tea. The décor is classic or old-fashioned, depending on your point of view–sage green walls, antique furniture, framed prints of maps, and buildings. It all feels very English stately home. Not having made this trip for the solitude of an empty room, we spend little time here.
Instead, we spend it lingering in the underground spa and pool. The pool is womb-like and calm. Secret and dark. The space glistens black and dark green, floors covered in graphic art deco tiles. There is a sauna, a steam room, and a hammam. There are many luxurious treatment options in the spa, an aesthetically pleasing gym, and even a hair salon. The ladies changing room alone has been worth the trip for me. The powder pink tiles, fluffy robes, and opulent dressing tables feel, as you can imagine, a world away from an angry toddler banging on the door of our teeny bathroom while I dress as fast as possible. Here, lingering feels mandatory. Heaven.
The star of the show here, though, are evenings in the lobby. All of the restaurants live here, partitioned off from each other but all part of the same night out, the same street, connected with the increasingly exuberant party vibes of the live bands that play in the center of the room. Oh, the pure and unadulterated joy of striding across the vast lobby, heels clicking on smooth floors, against the hazy backdrop of other people also wearing jewels, silks, bright lipsticks. The joy of a throng of people OUT and WEARING THINGS. Now, I am not saying that country people do not go out and wear things, and I am not saying that this is the most fashionable party in the city (we are in the financial center of London, after all). But still, this makes the most delicious change from feeling overdressed at any given restaurant. (When I visited my local wine bar last week in lipstick and heels I felt like I had turned up in a ballgown.)
We eat at Cecconi’s, and it is delightful. The food is classic and delicious, the service impeccable. Nestled in a spacious velvet banquette, drinking Italian wine and looked after by waiters in suits who are attentive and warm, I feel restored. The act of eating dinner surrounded by other adults while straining to talk over very loud music is a welcome vacation from straining to talk over a screaming toddler rejecting yet another meal. There is an old-fashioned elegance here that is a balm to my glamour-deprived soul. The collective atmosphere of the many bars and restaurants buzzes in the background, offering seemingly endless options for a nightcap. There is even a jazz and cabaret bar downstairs. We stay up late, we feel alive.
The next morning, we have a vibrant California-style breakfast at Malibu Kitchen and take a sunny stroll amongst the old stone buildings of the neighborhood. The streets outside are busy with people walking fast, going places.
I pack away my heels and, infused with just enough city energy to tide me over to my next city break, I walk slowly away. Back to my little town by the sea and my life as a country mouse.
As you were describing the former bank, I envisioned the one from Mary Poppins! As a transplant to a rural town of just under 2600, the Ned sounds like a place to get a great city fix! I'm already daydreaming about planning my trip.