Virgin Hotel London Shoreditch feels as good as a record player sounds and dares you to press play. This is Richard Branson’s return to his spiritual turf – not the Virgin Atlantic tarmac or the glossy megastore, but the scrappy, needle-to-vinyl beginnings of Virgin Records. It’s his first London hotel, planted in the creative chaos of Shoreditch, and it wears its history with pride. The place feels like an entrepreneur’s start-up that just landed a five-star wardrobe and decided to throw a listening party.
Rooms and suites are generous, the kind of spacious that makes you forget you’re in London. Beds you can melt into, lighting that flatters before your first coffee, and the shower… oh, the shower. A steam-enabled marble space so decadent you could lose yourself in it for hours. 1970s-inspired boucle sofas, velvet armchairs and bespoke burl oak furniture nod to the decade that birthed Virgin Records.
Mornings mean rooftop breakfasts on a terrace that catches the kind of sun Londoners treat like a celebrity sighting. There’s also a pool – a luxurious treat that few in Shoreditch will enjoy. It’s the same rooftop where guests sip cocktails from Marlin’s on the Roof or drift between the pool and skyline, the soundtrack as crisp and clear as the view.
Take the lift down and you might spot the ring doorbell-enabled “pitch booth” – Virgin’s playful nod to the local start-up scene. You can give your business idea before breakfast, though funding before you hit the lobby is optimistic.
Past reception lies Hidden Grooves – a hi-fi listening bar dreamed up by Branson himself. Inspired by Japanese listening lounges and styled like a 1970s living room, it’s vintage furniture, warm light and music memorabilia from Virgin Records’ early days. Branson’s own vinyl collection sits ready for you to browse, drop the needle and lose yourself in with headphones.
The sound is as sharp as the suits on Curtain Road, thanks to a custom audiophile system from London’s Project Audio. Even the cocktails have playlists. The Medusa’s Kiss – gin, lemon, basil, honey, chartreuse – arrives in a tentacled glass under a drifting smoke bubble, paired with Roxy Music’s Siren. The Punk Punch – tequila, mango, pineapple, lime, chilli agave – has the anarchy of The Sex Pistols’ God Save The Queen.
Food plays its own 70s riffs: devils on horseback with Colston Basset stilton; Korean Fried Cauliflower; crispy squid with lime mayo; tuna tartare with avocado, ponzu, cucumber; crumbed lamb chops with mint juices and lemon.
Downstairs, event and conference spaces balance Shoreditch style with real functionality – slick enough for product launches, relaxed enough for parties or wedding receptions. Between bookings, guests wander into the red flower mirror room, a kaleidoscopic backdrop that turns every reflection into album-cover art.
Virgin Hotel London Shoreditch proves discovery still matters – whether it’s a forgotten record, a new cocktail, or a stranger with a big idea. This is Virgin’s soundtrack to modern London: confident, creative, and never played on repeat.
