Are you into the origin of words? If so, you’ll be creaming your nick-nacks over Fitzroy, the name given by kings – particularly that Charles II, the randy bastard – to their, well, bastard progeny. Gave them the status, see, but none of the workload. And somehow it’s appropriate for this, the UK’s first glittering Kimpton hotel, all gorgeous-on-gorgeous and deliciously louche.
The erstwhile Principal (don’t ask, don’t tell) and, before that, one of those places you’d walk past and go, ‘Ooh, such a shame they don’t do something with that beautiful building,’ it is Kimpton’s second European property (after the lovely De Witt in Amsterdam) and marks a handsome entrée into the UK in a smarty pants part of town (Bloomsbury) where grand dollies of literature exchanged bons mots,…
