A peek inside Raffles London at The OWO, where Winston Churchill once directed the war effort
A massive Edwardian baroque pile of finely carved columns, arches and corner turrets, the architecture was built in 1906 to house the UK government’s war office and, latterly, the Ministry of Defence.
Have you ever noticed how hotels of a certain age and size like to use the word ‘grand’ when talking about themselves? For instance, their lobbies are always grand. Their suites are grand and spacious, the bathrooms opulently appointed. The architecture of the building is grand and historical, yada yada yada.
Not surprisingly, very few of these hotels ever actually live up to their over-inflated hype.
And yet, even before Raffles London at The OWO (aka Old War Office) opened in 2023 – apparently, London’s biggest building project since the Olympics in terms of manpower – it was obvious that ‘grand’ barely began to describe the 76,000 sq m complex of 120-room hotel, 85 residential apartments, 16-seater private cinema, nine restaurants, three bars, and wellness facilities.
The provenance of the seven-storey beauty along London’s historic Whitehall is impressive. A massive Edwardian baroque pile of finely carved columns, arches and corner turrets, it was built in 1906 to house the UK government’s war office and, latterly, the Ministry of Defence.
From within its cavernous interiors, Winston Churchill directed the war effort. Spy agencies MI5 and MI6 were formed here, whilst a succession of prime ministers would drop in for meetings – 10 Downing Street is down the road – perhaps after tea at Buckingham Palace a few minutes away.
In other words, for a hotel, much less one called Raffles, that’s a lot of history to live up to.
That it does so in spades and in such stylish splendour owes much to its owners, the fabulously wealthy Hinduja family, who signed off on a vast amount of money to restore and transform a faded civil service office into a modern grande dame hotel. The official cost is £1.6 billion (US$2.08 billion; S$2.74 billion), but that feels a little on the low side given that the fifth floor was completely rebuilt, and two new floors added alongside three new basements to house a massive 678 sq m ballroom and a labyrinthine Guerlain spa.
The original building had over 1,100 rooms connected by 2.5 miles of corridors that required a mini squad of bicycle couriers to deliver messages. In fact, the place was so large that newly appointed officers often got lost looking for their offices or each other. A round of applause, then, for the late legendary French architect Thierry Despont whose astounding transformation of the interiors balance a nuanced respect for the building’s history whilst inserting all the millennial comforts its well-heeled clientele expect.
On that point, it’s worth noting that room rates start at £900 a night for a 31 sq m classic room, which is down from its opening rate of £1,300; while the 39 upper category suites zoom up to an eye-watering £20,000. Which, in case you’re wondering, does include breakfast.
And what do you get for that kind of money, you ask?
For starters, it gets you a giant slice of history. At every turn, the past looms. From the little balcony at the top of the white stone double-winged staircase, Churchill held his daily war staff briefings. His office is now the ruinously expensive Haldane Suite, all dark wood, ornate cornices, original stone fireplace and elaborate flourishes in their colonial glory.
The former library is now a sun-lit conservatory that doubles as the breakfast room in the morning and, in the evening, as one of celebrity chef Mauro Colagreco’s three in-house restaurants.
In one of the basements, behind an inconspicuous door marked only with a room number, 007, is the Spy Bar, a fabulous speakeasy where, yes, a Singapore Sling is available.
In another basement, the 20-metre lap pool is flanked by a massive vitality pool, sauna and steam room. You could spend the whole day down here, it’s that decadently posh, right down to the £132 Louis Roederer Champagne you could order from the poolside beverage menu. Meanwhile, in the Guerlain spa, an Imperial Age Reverse facial will set you back £310 whilst, upstairs, in Saison 2, three scones will add £30 to your check-out tab.
And should you require a power yoga session, or a sound bath, that’s available too.
The service is, no surprises here, exemplary. It’s a Raffles after all. Smartly dressed and impeccably coiffed, the staff could easily double as palace courtiers, so polished is their manner and attentiveness.
Setting the service bar high is the urbane managing director, Philippe Lebouef, a tall, aristocratic Frenchman who, before he pitched up at Raffles London, managed the Crillon in Paris, The Carlyle in New York, and Claridges and Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park in London. The fact that I saw him every single day during my stay – quality checking the breakfast buffet, peering into reception and stalking the corridors of the spa, eyes alert to any stray dust or errant lapel on uniforms – tells you all you need to know about the hotel’s service standards.
If it’s not already clear, a stay at Raffles London is about more than just passing the night in an expensive hotel. In a city packed with so many gold-plated properties, there’s nothing novel about that. But here, in these old corridors and plush suites, you’re claiming a sweep of British history that’s steeped in bona fide imperial grandeur.
Yes, it helps that no expense has been spared in creating an entirely other world of comfort and luxury, where the super-king beds are swaddled in thick silky linen, the closet hangers are monogrammed with the hotel’s crest, and on the in-room iPad, there’s even an option to summon a butler to unpack and later repack your luggage.
But it’s the other little details that matter most. The preservation of a carved stone lion, for instance, whose nose still bears a dark bruise because Churchill rubbed it for good luck every time he passed it. The thick stationery stock in the desk drawer. The sympathetic, solicitous assistance rendered when I got lost and couldn’t find my room.
And when the staff manning the gym – not the concierge, mind you – can cancel your dinner reservation at one restaurant and book you into another without looking the least bit put-out, you know you’re in a different league of hotels altogether.
And that, as the ad goes, is priceless.