At the corner of Creed Court near St Paul's Cathedral, a late-Victorian commercial building with elaborately stuccoed facades and a distinctive domed corner turret carries Lost Property St Paul's into the City of London with considerably more architectural confidence than most hotels in the Hilton stable manage. The building's ornamental plasterwork — floral cartouches, pilastered bays, and layered cornices stepping up five storeys — survives with enough integrity that the conversion needed only to clean and repaint rather than restore, the white-painted facade now set against dark-painted shopfront framing at street level. Inside, the 96 rooms work through a colour-coded system that gives each floor a distinct identity — deep navy headboards with graphic black-and-white chevron carpets on one level, burgundy leather upholstered beds against rose-toned herringbone rugs on another — with triptych artworks above each bed pulling references from London cultural life into a framework that avoids feeling generic. Brass-detailed wall sconces and dark walnut case furniture keep the material register grounded. The Tome restaurant and bar, visible from the street through full-height glazing, deploys mustard leather bar stools along a cobalt-blue counter edge, crystal cluster pendant lights overhead, and deep red booth seating beyond — a palette of saturated mid-century references that brings considerably more warmth to the ground floor than the building's City-adjacent location might have suggested it needed.

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Lost Property means finding a place to lose yourself in the moment — an escapism. With a plethora of curiosities around every corner, Lost Property uncovers and celebrates the lost moments, activities and art of London's rich past and present with an eccentric twist. Lost stations, trades, fashions, conversations and more. From the artwork that lines the halls to the receptionists recommendations, this is a place that always has more to give. Where the found come to get lost.