Rising ten storeys above San Lorenzo — Rome's historically working-class neighbourhood east of Termini, long claimed by students and anarchists before anyone thought to build a hotel there — a rationalist tower clad in warm ochre render gives Soho House Rome an address that feels genuinely countercultural for the brand. The building, with its strongly horizontal banding, curved balcony edges, and steel-framed crittall-style windows, carries the feeling of 1930s Italian modernism revised for the present, its roofline crowned by a planted terrace and infinity pool tiled in deep burgundy ceramic that mirrors the Roman sky rather than competing with it. Scallop-edged white canvas umbrellas and green-and-yellow striped daybeds furnish the pool deck in a register that lands somewhere between Fellini and Slim Aarons. Inside, the house aesthetic — that specific Soho House grammar of mid-century comfort lightly worn — finds one of its more considered expressions. Guestrooms are arranged around sinuous upholstered bedheads in tobacco and amber velvet, burl wood nightstands, terrazzo floors softened by geometric wool rugs in dusty rose and terracotta, and the recurring brass-and-rattan chandelier that reads as a knowing quotation of 1950s Italian lighting design. Freestanding soaking tubs positioned at the foot of beds, walls finished in warm limewash plaster, and black rotary telephones on the nightstands complete an atmosphere closer to a curated Roman apartment than to any conventional hotel room. The rooftop restaurant, its pergola columns threaded with climbing vines and hung with bell-shade lanterns, commands an unobstructed panorama across the city's terracotta roofscape.

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