It was a glorious May Friday afternoon in London – that rarity of wearing shorts in the UK and not putting on a brave face for it – and with all work done for the weekend, I decided to explore Belgravia. Nestled between Mayfair and South Kensington and home to the world-famous Harrods, this is an upmarket, pristine (as I discovered) part of the Capital; but independent coffee shops didn’t seem that prominent, until I took a wayward turn into an alley that pulled me in like a magnet. Unlike a lot of the neighbourhood characterised by white washed buildings with black iron railings, “residents only” green spaces and general noiselessness, this part was lined with chic boutique shops, intersected with a few stylish bars where the cool crowd enjoyed a glass of rosé with a bruschetta. So sophisticated, I was hoping one of these venues would be a cafe so that I could blend into this carefree picture, even if just for a few minutes.

And there it was: Café Kitsuné, by the multi-faceted creative brand encompassing fashion, hospitality, music and art – nestled inside an archway connecting Motcomb Street with the Halkin Arcade, (home to Gordon Ramsay’s Pétrus). The latter had a Kitsuné bar serving take away coffees, so I returned inside the archway where the only seat was at the wide open window overlooking Motcomb – it was perfect.

What wasn’t was the service. My presence in the tiny cafe was not acknowledged, even though the server behind the counter crossed eyes with me, before returning to a conversation with a departing colleague; he seemed her superior (manager, perhaps), so the ignorance was a double blow. The third one came after I ordered and we established that the seat at the window was, indeed, available – but I had to pick up my order at the bar outside. What a faff. 

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long and there was no one desperate for a hot mocha that day (most of the steady flow of customers opting for iced drinks) as I had nothing to show as proof of purchase. In an act of defiance for the poor experience indoors, I perched myself on the stone seat outside the bar first, before continuing my walk around the area.

The coffee was certainly made by experienced hands as it was smooth in texture – nicely blended. However, it lacked sweetness, and tasted more like a flat white than a mocha. Half-way through it I decided that it was not worth the calories (despite the Belgravia price tag) and I ditched it at the next opportunity – that is, when I finally found a bin, which are hard to come by, even in such pristine neighbourhoods (don’t worry, I dipped the liquid out beforehand)

The whole experience made me wonder, if all of Belgravia is like that Kitsuné coffee… beautiful on the outside, disappointing when you get to taste it?

Keen to hear your views!

To find out more about Café Kitsuné London, visit their website.