The London Walker

I’ve been going through some of my archive photographs, and I came across this one that I took on a meander around Chelsea last winter. It was the run-up to Christmas, so early December, and this very glam part of town was looking suitably decked out with holly and lights on every corner. It was very much a memory lane journey for me, visiting parts of town I used to know really well. Years ago, I used to work as a semi-penniless shop assistant in Chelsea. I had holes in my shoes, a modest but always busy overdraft facility, and lived in a raucous bohemian house share in Camden.

By day, I was selling expensive cameras to bankers, well-heeled dukes and baronesses, and by night, I was writing and plotting global domination from my small bedroom. Funny to wander around the lovely old streets again, with all the memories of those times flooding back. As I was walking through Sloane Square I came across a gorgeous old building, once familiar, where I would often hang outside on my breaks, sipping a dark macchiato and smoking a cigarette, collars turned up, trying to look cool and suitably artistic.

It’s a building that might easily be mistaken for a Byzantine chapel on a small Greek island. With its pale stone exterior, grand smooth arches, and distinctive tower, Cadogan Hall offers a striking contrast to the red-brick mansions of the neighbourhood. It should really be situated in Florence or Venice, being oogled at by tourists, instead of being down a backstreet off Sloane Square. But this strange looking oddity has long since shed its religious roots to become one of London’s most prestigious concert venues.

Originally constructed in 1907 as the First Church of Christ, Scientist, Cadogan Hall’s design was the work of Robert Fellowes Chisholm, an English architect more widely known for his contributions to colonial-era architecture in India. The building’s style is a curious look known as Byzantine Revival. For almost a century it served its original purpose as a church, quietly anchoring a community of worshippers just a stone’s throw from Sloane Square and the busy King’s Road.

It wasn’t until 2000 that Cadogan Hall shed its skin and stepped into the musical limelight. The building had fallen into disuse, but was rescued and reopened in 2004 as the home of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.

Today, Cadogan Hall is a cultural gem: not pomp and grandiose like the Royal Albert Hall, nor brutal modernism like the Barbican, but elegant, warm, and acoustically rich. It offers a rare kind of listening experience, it’s all very up-close and personal, with seating for just under 1,000. Its a bit like a classical Jazz club. The programming is equally intimate: chamber concerts, solo recitals, jazz nights, and spoken word, all unfolding beneath a fabulous vaulted ceiling.

Whether you’re catching a lunchtime classical performance or simply admiring the slightly weird architecture Cadogan Hall is a grand place, and at Christmas time, well worth attending the choir sing alongs, they are beautiful.

Also it’s a reminder of what London is so good at, the ability to reimagine, to change, to continue. Standing there that day many years from my younger shabbier self, it all made me smile, as well as want a good Italian macchiato. Now where was that little Italian cafe?