London Before

Before the Photographs Begin

We arrived in London at 6:10 in the morning.

The first day was never meant to be a day of accomplishment. It was a day to cross an ocean, leave the jet lag behind, and begin to see.

Hazlitt’s Hotel

We chose Hazlitt’s hotel in Soho because it felt like a place where London’s past had survived intact. Four Georgian townhouses, dating from 1719, joined together to create something increasingly rare — a hotel with the personality of a private London home.

We left our left our luggage at the desk and were invited to breakfast in one of the four sitting parlors. A handmade bagel. Cream cheese. Smoked salmon. Rich, unfiltered coffee, a vase with flowers. Quiet conversation.

Of course it is England. It’s always toast for breakfast.

And everywhere, photographs waiting to be made.

Rather than a room number, each room at Hazlitt’s is named for a notable Londoner, and each room has its own collection of period details. When departing for dinner, we would leave our key with a large brass key holder the desk attendant. Upon return, she had it waiting for us, memorizing our room name, The William Bentinck room, welcoming us by name.

By the next morning, we knew many of the staff and had begun to feel less like guests and more like friends who had been given a room in an old London home.

For us, that is the essence of photographic travel.

The worn floors were uneven under the carpet. The corridors were narrow. Upon opening the main door to our room, we were greeted by a glass vestibule further openeing into our room.

A fireplace anchored the space. Even the bathroom seemed to belong to another century, complete with a claw-foot tub.

Nothing was polished into perfection.

That was precisely its charm.

We don’t simply want to photograph a destination.

We want to photograph its character.

Hazlitt’s gave us our first glimpse of the London we had come looking for.