London has a new £1,600-a-night hotel – this is what the price tag gets you

Has Knightsbridge had its day? Certainly if you are a mere mortal braving the moshpit of middle-class aspiration that stretches from South Carriage Drive to Sloane Square, it may seem to be fraying at the edges. Harrods, with its £25 Wagyu beef sandwiches in the food hall and lavatory queues longer than Glastonbury continues to plumb new depths in its quest to maximise “mass luxury” profits. Tatty pharmaceutical shops have crept into the less exclusive corners of the main shopping drag like cobwebs. Cafés serve opera cakes that resemble art and taste like bath sponge. 

But, of course, there is Knightsbridge for the plebs and then there is Knightsbridge for HNWIs. And SW1X will never be out of fashion for the super-rich. So when the company that owns Claridge’s decided to open an even more exclusive all-suite hotel, the Emory, catering to the global elite, it is little surprise that it did in the end opt for Knightsbridge (though it promotes the hotel as technically located in Belgravia). In fact it is right next door to its other five-star establishment, The Berkeley. 

I must confess, when I learned that the starting rate was £1,620 a night, I was taken aback. Only last year we were baulking at £1,000 a night hotels. What exactly does the extra £620 get you?

For starters, guests are picked up in a £150,000 BMW i7 electric car that smells of bergamot and runs with the silent smoothness of a Jetsons cartoon flying car. They are then ushered into a statement edifice splayed with white steel outriggers, somehow at the same time conceited and understated. The courtyard, with its maple tree and reverse-engineered Grecian sculptures, is designed to be admired rather than experienced. 

Still, while The Emory does grant guests a cheeky ankle flash of eccentricity here and there – from the Splashy David Hockneys that adorn the walls to the Barbie-pink staircase off the lobby – for the most part, the public spaces are casually retro. Think burgundy leather swivel stools, and lighting in permanent sunset mode.

My favourite hangout spot was the art deco panoramic rooftop bar, which has undoubtedly rocketed to the position of the finest in the city. (Alas it is accessible only to guests, though a horological society has started to put on events in the adjacent cigar room.)

Determined to make the most of the privilege, I went once before dinner when it was still light to admire the spectacular vistas of Hyde Park. I returned at night to try the bespoke cocktail experience. I asked for a digestif riff on a negroni. I received a tumbler of clear liquid heaven with bitter notes of rosemary. The abc restaurant – the latest outlet in the global chain of Jean-Georges Vongerichten – is a slightly greedy mashup of the French superstar chef’s three New York outlets, combining farm-to-table, plant-based and Latin cuisine.

Still, the open kitchen floods the room with energy and the food is surreptitiously delicious. Unlike Knightsbridge opera cake, the beetroot carpaccio both looked and tasted splendid. Riffing off of a Jackson Pollock canvas, it perfectly triangulated between sweetness, tartness and freshness.

I was most looking forward to checking out the highly anticipated Surenne wellness space. Or at least having some downtime in the sauna after being put through my paces with a cutting-edge fitness class in the hotel’s studio, run in partnership with Gwyneth Paltrow’s personal trainer Tracy Anderson.

In a studio heated to 30 degrees celsius and streaming with red ribbons, I was unclear whether I had entered Dante’s third circle of hell or my mother’s womb. The instructor performed complex aerobic and toning exercise sequences to blaring music, in silence. I came out streaming waterfalls of sweat, before entering spa heaven – a whirling festival of snow showers, underwater pool music and lockers stocked with Alice Temperley-print dressing gowns. My “ballet bodywork” massage, with magnesium worked into my tired muscles and restorative stretch poses, was just the ticket. 

Of course in the end, guests at the Emory are paying for an incredible suite experience. With units on every floor perfected to the finest detail by a different world-acclaimed designer, that is exactly what they get. I stayed in a glass-walled pad conceived by the Hong Kong artist Andre Fu, dotted with hand-cast ceramics and decorated in a flattering palette of pistachio and pink. The views of London were sublime. Sipping a glass of champagne in the egg-shaped bath overlooking Hyde Park was a moment of pure bliss that will be forever seared into my memory.

And then I made the mistake of poking my nose into the outside world. After an hour spent being elbowed by tourists on the main thoroughfares and then rattling around empty designer shops, I fled back into the cloistered calmness of The Emory, to watch the roller skaters cruising down the road over a pot of Yunnan white tea. For those with the budget, there really is only one way to appreciate Knightsbridge.

Doubles from £1,620, including breakfast, minibar, airport transfers and complimentary chauffeur use.

Old Barrack Yard, London SW1X 7NP (the-emory.co.uk)