Loud luxury in London

If you count among the Anglophiles emerging from Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale misty-eyed, you might be interested to hear that London’s cultural calendar is having a maximalist moment. Harking back to eras of pomp, excess and pouffy outfits, two exhibitions showcase icons who made extravagance an art form: David Bowie and Marie Antoinette.

In South Kensington, the Victoria and Albert Museum is hosting Marie Antoinette Style, dedicated to the most fashionable teen queen in history. Across town, the David Bowie Centre in the brand-new V&A East Storehouse space (bigger than 30 basketball courts) reveals over 90,000 items from the singer’s archive.

Using style as cultural storytelling, these are two meditations on color, sumptuousness and experimentation. “Men’s dresses” that led the peacock revolution and slippers sexy enough to cause court scandals are a welcome antidote to my increasingly homogenous algorithm. After being constantly targeted with beige activewear, biohacking tips and minimalist wellness hotels, I’ve found myself craving true escape. Don’t we all want to shut off the news cycle and get dolled up somewhere nice, now and again? London’s a great place to embrace good, old-fashioned glam – here’s where to live your royal (or rock star) fantasy.

Afternoon tea at The Milestone Hotel, a Victorian building next to the Royal Albert Hall, invites your best Antoinette impression (resist “let them eat cake” quips; a quick Google confirms the quote is widely misattributed). Festive visits have become a ritual in my family, a somewhat nostalgic constant. Doorman Steve remains at his post in emerald coat tails, guiding us through the Park Lounge swathed in rich fabrics, to our favorite couches in front of the fireplace. On the bottom cake stand tier sit finger sandwiches with the crusts dutifully removed (smoked salmon with dill and lemon crème fraîche, chicken mayo studded with toasted almonds, sharp mature Cheddar and pickle). Ask for more, and they’ll arrive without question. 

Middle tier: warm scones with all the accoutrements (I spread the Cornish clotted cream first, which is technically the Devon way). On top, hand-crafted French pastries, tartlets and cakes to complement loose-leaf Earl Grey steaming in silver teapots, or a glass of Lanson. Today’s Marie Antoinette is pastiche, shorthand for the evils of excess, but I’ll admit it’s fun to be this spoiled.

Perhaps a wider reaction to the state of the world, the fashion set confirmed the death of “quiet luxury” in 2025 – understated elegance is out, dramatic prints and theatrical silhouettes are back in, confirmed Spring/Summer shows from Valentino to Ganni. Interior designers are following suit, introducing outrageous color clashes and boisterous patterns. Sumptuous, art-stuffed hotel openings like Marrakech’s Jnane Rumi and Jakarta’s 25hours Hotel The Oddbird were among the buzziest this year, as anticipation builds for Italy’s Airelles Venezia, opening spring 2026.

The Other House was ahead of the curve, emerging as London’s first hybrid hotel-residence concept in 2022, a dense mishmash of jungle print wallpaper, zebra hide seating and gilded picture frames. A chi chi pied-à-terre, it’s a fifteen-minute walk from the V&A, transforming 11 period townhouses into something between apartments and a private members’ club. I checked into a Greater Club Flat sleeping up to four people, traveling with some trusted companions (old school friends) primed not for a state-of-the-art sleep retreat, nor a digital detox, but the radical act of having a good time. We duly experimented with lengthy toilette routines (read: bothering to moisturize beyond our faces) and lavish lunches, newly-opened café The Lavery offering elevated post-museum power-ups.

The Other House’s wellness studio would have served a French queen quite nicely – Antoinette’s own regime centering around daily aromatic baths, natural skincare and nightly conditioning rituals. What she’d have made of the modern program of exercise classes, hypnotherapy and sound healing is anyone’s guess, but the holistic massage blending deep tissue and Swedish techniques with natural oils would no doubt have been well-received. I emerged feeling restored, chasing a proper hour of relaxation in the sauna’s rich, dark woods. The cozy indoor pool was pleasingly quiet on a rainy Saturday afternoon; flopping onto the small fleet of loungers, we felt we had our own private residence.

One thing I can guarantee against AI-generated destinations and reviews is my own experience. Growing up, exploring high-class London was a rare treat, bookended by long train journeys. Stepping out of bed to soak up South Kensington’s grandeur will never lose its sparkle. The Other House sits fifteen minutes away from Buckingham Palace by black cab (delete Uber if you want the real London experience). You’ll pass by Ciné Lumière, hosting daily screenings of French and world cinema, and Librairie La Page on Harrington Road, stocking the capital’s largest selection of French language books.

Our digs’ private kitchenettes encouraged casual cooking, but sans private chef, I was pleased to discover an app offering room service. Had I the budget of a royal, I’d stuff the fridge with eye-wateringly expensive kumquats from Bens of Kensington greengrocer, gourmet sweets and organic meats from Kensington Farmer’s Market, and bubbles from where else but Jeroboams, its local branch housing a wine merchant.

A plentiful breakfast spread is served in the French brasserie, artisanal cheeses and cured meats arranged with a bit of Parisian flair. Evenings are for sampling cocktails at the Owl & Monkey bar to the tune of a live DJ, or if you get the right night, some jazz. Stay on theme with a French Kiss, mixing Veuve Clicquot Brut with Apros Black Forest rosé, plum & rhubarb elixir, and Franklin & Son’s grapefruit soda.

True locals would probably kick off their shoes and hold court over the British furniture dotted around the quiet Club Lounge, tending to some business or finishing off that book they’ve been meaning to. Perhaps they’d mosey over to the Body Lab for a casual spot of flotation therapy, acupuncture or red-light therapy, before browsing art at Christie’s, picking out homewares in the Conran Shop or donning sunglasses to pose on Sloane Avenue. They’d certainly have already visited two talked-about dinner spots I’d recommend to really take things over the top. 

The first is Jacuzzi, a riotous palazzo-style restaurant on Kensington High Street. Opening to fanfare in 2023, you still can’t open Instagram without seeing its foliage-stuffed mezzanine, retractable roof and white tablecloths. The place was designed to ooze the luxury of a Venetian villa, crammed with Murano glass and lemon trees. The ground floor’s cozy circular banquettes invite salacious gossip as guests sip silky-smooth cocktails of home-made bergamot sorbet spiked with liqueur and limoncello, and spaghetti is mixed tableside in a hollow cheese round.

Dishes are designed to wow: go for homemade ravioli stuffed with slow-cooked chicken and Parmigiano Reggiano, crumbled with dried Taggiasche olives. I love the Piedmontese Vittello tonnato (thinly sliced veal) swirled with a creamy tuna sauce, and the Neapolitan pizzas that fight for table space. A homemade profiterole arrives with gelato al pistachio, doused in thick dark chocolate sauce on request, but the Tiramisu is their unbeatable classic, infused with marsala, and flamboyantly dolloped onto plates. 

Any trip devoted to shameless indulgence demands a finale in London’s most expensive post code. Twenty minutes in a taxi from “South Ken” delivers you to Mayfair’s the Dover, ex Soho House COO Martin Kuczmarski’s New York Italian. An unassuming entrance gives way to a lot of wood paneling; pull back the velvet curtain and you half expect to find David Bowie in full 1970s NoLita getup, lit just so by a chandelier. No nightclub-esque playlists to shout over, nor cacophonous menus to divide attention. This type of luxury trades on whispers – excited ones – proof that “quiet luxury” hasn’t altogether disappeared. 

Start with a drink. The New York Sour mixes Maker’s Mark, tawny port, citrus, and aquafaba as sharp as the outfit Bowie would have pulled up in. They’re smartly blending high and low culture here; mini hot dogs are a cute surprise on the bar menu, tempting with pulled pork, würstel and fried onion, while seated guests fork smoked salmon onto dinky blinis. The joy is in the little details: perfectly crunchy French fries are funneled into paper cartons, “The Dover” sole (clever) is zesty, flavored with chili, lime and samphire sauce. A plate of Peruvian dark chocolate and Piemonte hazelnuts sounds simple enough, but spooning the rich praline into your mouth to cap off the meal feels whoppingly decadent. As it should – sometimes life’s about eating the damn cake.

Marie Antoinette Style is on view at the V&A Museum until March 22, 2026.  The David Bowie Centre is a permanent display at V&A East Storehouse with free, ticketed access and new ticket drops every six weeks.