The hype surrounding Chateau Denmark had been brewing for a long time so on my way down to Soho from deepest Yorkshire, I was psyched but also strangely nervous. With quite a bit of mystery about the opening, I hoped it lived up to my expectations. Psychedelia, gothic glamour, sex, decadence, opulence, and lots of tartan were all things promised at Chateau Denmark and I couldn’t wait.
Denmark Street is synonymous with rock n’ roll, punk and some of the most seismic changes in British music. The Sex Pistols once lived there, The Rolling Stones recorded their first album there, David Bowie and Vivienne Westwood were regulars. The buildings just sort of seep bad behaviour.
Instead of a typical hotel situation, Chateau Denmark is more of a concept with 55 Sessions Rooms and Apartments, all with private coded entrances. Then there are the stupendous ‘Signature Apartments’ including the ‘I Am Anarchy’ duplex mews behind number six which features Johnny Rotten’s storied caricatures of his fellow bandmates, Chateau Denmark’s one-time residents.
When I arrived just before lunchtime on a sunny Friday, instead of heading to a reception desk I was greeted by my personal butler – or BTLR – resplendent in plaid and velvet coat tails. He was tall and magnificent and led me to my lair for the night.
As soon as I stepped through the door to my Townhouse Apartment on the third floor, I was speechless – not something that happens often. My butler looked on knowingly, and I reckon he gets this reaction from most guests. The first thing to greet me was the enormous red and black roll-top bath, atop a marble plinth. Obscene. I was already posing for a moody selfie in my mind.
Opposite was a full bar stocked with premium spirits from Patron tequila to Crystal Head vodka, champagne and a secret drawer of wine, complete with blingy glassware and every cocktail accompaniment you could imagine. My butler explained that he was on hand 24/7 to mix cocktails, for me and for anyone I might want to…invite back. All said with a suggestive wink.
Now to the bedroom… not designed for sleeping in, to be honest. This room was made for debauchery between the vast purple bed with its studded headboard, textured walls, pineapple chandelier, and Glastonbury-worthy sound system. It would be easy indeed to get carried away here, the touristy sounds of Soho felt like a million miles away.
What makes Chateau Denmark stand out – aside from the sheer hedonism and homage to the rock gods – is the premise that anything goes. I got the feeling no request would be too outrageous. Guests are given their butler’s mobile number and just need to text what they want, any time of the day or night.
The apartment also featured a neat industrial-chic bathroom with deluxe toiletries and a pair of badass black silk robes, perfect for slinking around the room with a martini in hand. For drinks, guests must purchase a whole bottle of a spirit. Then it’s cocktails on demand. Alternatively, you just choose a bottle of wine or beer and pay on departure, like a regular mini bar. For food, the newly opened Tattu is the hotel’s sister restaurant and guests can skip the waiting list – a big bonus as it’s normally long.
The whole 24 hours at Chateau Denmark felt surreal. Indeed, when I left the following morning (or rather, afternoon), I emerged onto the bright street blinking like a little mole, morphing back to mere journalist from wannabe rock goddess. Smoky margaritas, thumping bass, sharing the enormous bath with a pal while drinking red wine – memories that already seemed made up.
Chateau Denmark doesn’t come cheap – rooms start at about £500 a night. But the staff urge the more the merrier, and my butler even offered me a spare room key ‘just in case.’ And that sums up this magical place to a tee. What happens in the chateau, stays in the chateau.
For a raucous treat, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
To discover more, visit: chateaudenmark.com
All imagery courtesy of Chateau Denmark.
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