Side by side Claridge’s vs The Emory

Claridge's is the hotel people compare every other London grand dame against, and most of the time it holds up: doormen who move your bags without being asked, a front desk that remembers your name from a stay two years ago, afternoon tea servers who get requested by name. Robert, Jairo and Marius all turn up repeatedly in 2026 reviews for the same reason: they notice things, a Nutella swap for a child, a forgotten tea bagged up to take home. The Art Deco rooms and public spaces still look like nowhere else in the city, and the André Fu spa three floors down is better than most guests expect going in.

But the last year of reports shows real cracks. One guest was blocked from her own room over a billing error the hotel had already failed to reconcile; another described a lobby security guard who followed her around on day three. A longtime regular who'd eaten there for fifteen years had to ask four times for the bill before staff would even look at her. None of this is the norm, but it's not nothing either, and it clusters recently enough to be worth factoring in rather than writing off as noise. The ongoing construction directly opposite the entrance is also a real annoyance right now, not a permanent feature of the address.

Book it for a junior suite or above, where the room sizes justify the rate; the smaller Superior rooms can feel tight for what you're paying. It's still worth it for the afternoon tea and the Foyer alone, and the staff who get it right outnumber the ones who don't by a wide margin. First-timers chasing the quintessential Mayfair experience should go in expecting exactly that, with eyes open about the odd rough patch.

The Emory is the Maybourne hotel for people who'd rather have a quiet glass box next to Hyde Park than a grand lobby in Mayfair. It opened in 2024 with only 61 keys, all suites, and it reads nothing like its stablemates: Richard Rogers architecture, Andre Fu's floors at the top, an entrance so tucked away the doorman has to walk you to the lift. Some of the biggest suites in the city come with a free minibar that's actually stocked, a butler reachable on WhatsApp within minutes, and a spa, Surrenne, that multiple guests call the best wellness setup in London, with a 22m pool, a snow shower and Tracy Anderson classes.

The staff who get singled out by name do remarkable things, a doorman who came back with a printed class schedule for a guest's wife, a butler who arranged a birthday cake delivered to the minute. But the hotel is small and still finding its footing, and that shows up as inconsistency rather than a pattern of failure: one guest's check-in dragged over a payment glitch and a missed birthday note, another was told flatly no when they asked to speak to a manager after a dispute over room changes. The cigar lounge has drawn complaints of a cold front-of-house, and the public bathrooms near the rooftop bar are two shared stalls down in the lobby, which is a strange oversight for the money.

Book it if you want quiet, modern rooms with a park view and don't need the history or theater of Claridge's or the Connaught; the Berkeley next door shares the same spa and kitchen if you'd rather have a more traditional lobby attached to it. Families should know the hotel tolerates kids more than it caters to them. For a couple or solo traveller who wants the best gym and spa access in London wrapped in a genuinely private building, this is the one to book.