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CHECKING-IN TO | CABANA TRAVEL | WORLD OF CABANA
Fresh from a break-up, Eleanor Cording-Booth checks-in to The Dorchester in London and finds solace in its beautifully whimsical interiors, spectacular flowers, impeccable service, and abundant charm. The grande dame, which recently emerged from a sweeping redesign by Pierre-Yves Rochon (matriarchal soul and glamour intact) offers resounding proof that, at least for a night, heartbreak can be softened by exceptional hospitality.
BY ELEANOR CORDING-BOOTH | CABANA TRAVEL | 1 JUNE 2026
When I was ushered into The Dorchester by an elegant gentleman in a top hat, I’d just said goodbye to my ex-boyfriend outside our former flat, and I’d had a hearty sob on the tube. I was still on the brink of tears as I checked-in alone, tissue in hand, but if anyone noticed my general air of gloom, they were gracious enough to pretend they hadn’t.
By then, though, I was distracted by the sugared-almond colors in the carpet, the gold crown moulding, and the flowers. Oh, the flowers! Gigantic urns flank the hotel’s Promenade, and the displays are sensational in both size and abundance.
The bedroom of the magnificent Belgravia suite © The Dorchester.
I’d been to The Dorchester just once before, for afternoon tea a decade ago. Back then, the landmark hotel was traditional with a capital T, and without the joyful whimsy it exudes now. This time, after the hotel’s complete renovation by renowned interior designer Pierre-Yves Rochon, I walked around the public areas with cartoonish delight, complimenting every light fixture, console and wallcovering as I was shown to my suite.
The sprawling hallways upstairs were long and symmetrical – it was a dreamworld in a Ludwig Bemelmans color palette. I then met my personal butler (not an everyday occurrence) and polished off three ripe plums from the still-life scene on my coffee table, wondering whether it was too late to invite a friend. It all felt far too special — too selfish, even — to experience a room so magnificent on my own.
A sumptuous suite, designed by Pierre-Yves Rochon © The Dorchester.
My balcony was front and centre above the main entrance, and on a sunnier day it would have been shaded by the hotel’s iconic yellow striped awnings. I filmed a wobbly room tour for my mum, knowing just how much she’d appreciate the attention to detail. And to think, only an hour earlier, I’d been crying on public transport. I can’t guarantee that a night at The Dorchester is a long-term fix for heartbreak, but it really does a fantastic job while you’re there.
I strode around with my camera, capturing the red and green scheme in my Belgravia Suite, and marvelling at how, despite facing a very busy road, my room was near-silent. The décor felt fresh and classic without taking itself too seriously. Tradition and good old-fashioned service still underpin the hotel’s more stylish, stylised new direction, and they strike the balance just right. There were blousy red florals on the curtains and headboard, a smocked skirt on the dressing table, hand-painted wall panels and a dining area with space for six.
The Vesper Bar, designed by Martin Brudnizki © The Dorchester
Later, I met a friend in the hotel’s Vesper Bar, which was designed by Martin Brudnizki, a man certainly not known for minimalism. I was feeling indecisive, so the server made a cocktail recommendation and it was perfect. Of course it was. While the hotel has several restaurants, including world-famous China Tang, for dinner we nipped into The Grill opposite Vesper Bar.
It feels like a special-occasion sort of restaurant, with a sculptural glass chandelier and beautiful mirrored panels on the walls, but the reasonable prices took us by surprise: they’re on par with most of London’s smart gastropubs. Every dish was delicious and perfectly cooked, which by now came as no surprise.
Mirrored panels and a sculptural glass chandelier at The Grill © The Dorchester.
After dinner, we promenaded the Promenade (pictured, top), which felt especially Alice in Wonderland-esque as it was bedecked with decorative bunnies for Easter at the time. Just then, a pianist returned from his break and started playing. The setting – and the moment itself – were so improbably charming that I could’ve cried, again.
The following day, I took a swim in the hotel's below-ground spa, at The Dorchester's sister hotel 45 Park Lane, directly across the road. It’s a 20-meter pool and there was no one else there at the time, just me and the intricate Liberty print floral wall mural, completed in thousands of tiny mosaic tiles. It was as serene and spoiling as mornings can get.
If this is what break-ups look like, bring on the next one.
First Impressions: The Dorchester's elegant lobby © The Dorchester.
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