“Not even God himself could sink this ship.” So said an employee of the White Star Line at the launch of The Titanic in 1911. The infamous vessel, of course, sank.
There is something of The Titanic about The Ned, London’s newest and most talked about hotspot, which looms in the distinctly cold spot of the City of London. Soho House’s latest colony is, in no uncertain terms, an absolute whopper. There are eight restaurants, 250 bedrooms, a gym, a barber, an expansive spa with every oily treatment imaginable and a private members’ club on a roof balcony, complete with a swimming pool where you can splish and splosh with total strangers overlooking St Paul’s. The opening party attracted every A, B, C … all the way through to Z-lister in the city, each and every one of them eager to mince around this colossal establishment. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them were still there, weeks later, wandering aimlessly through the endless corridors.
The building is undeniably majestic – it was designed by Edwin Lutyens, casually known to the Soho House Group as “Ned”. But here’s the thing. It’s gargantuan. It’s in the City – presumably an unpopular destination for nocturnal party animals. There’s a lot of hype, in fact, excitement verging on hysteria. The Ned, is therefore, a PR dream.
 The Ned, in short, is also an orchestra of chaos. Arriving in the spectacular lobby, we were greeted by representatives of The Ned, armed with iPads, serving an unidentified purpose. It was tricky to identify the representatives, as they were all dressed in trendy leisure wear which therefore meant that they unintentionally masqueraded as hotel guests wandering around the lobby using the free WiFi.
The other people meandering around the lobby using the free WiFi – that is to say, hoi poloi, you and I – were there in their hundreds. The Ned’s PR team should merrily reward themselves for all of their hard work because the lobby was overflowing with people – none of whom seemed to be from The City, as you might suspect. There was an instantaneous cruise ship feeling about The Ned. And cruise ships, although in theory ghastly, are Fun places, where people go with the sole purpose of Having Fun. And so it is with The Ned. Londoners, and indeed tourists, are flocking in their thousands, just To Have Fun. To try it. To see what the hype is about.
In the centre of this orchestra of chaos was some form of stage, either suspended from the ceiling or erected – it was hard to tell – from which a “self-produced alternative R and B artist” (who looked like the love child of Boy George and Victoria Beckham) was belting out unidentifiable tunes enthusiastically. And the crowd was absolutely loving it. They were going to The Ned and they were going to Have Fun. Not hell, nor high water, nor screeching music was going to stand in their way.
I chose Millie’s Cafe – an English brasserie. The menu is straightforward – oysters, burgers, salads and suchlike. The best choice was my companion’s asparagus: deliciously fresh and perfectly cooked (surprisingly, seeing as it must have been cooked in a galley kitchen miles away). The rump steak had flavour but wasn’t as tender as one would hope. The service was extremely friendly (most staff members have been poached from London’s other trendy spots such as Chiltern Firehouse) but utterly confused. The captain of the ship was Bruno, the only person in the establishment who attempted to steer The Titanic through the chaos and disorder to calmer waters. Unfortunately The Ned was too tumultuous despite his efforts. But what it was, was jolly good fun. And you have the added bonus of no sea-sickness.
