The New Status Symbol of Fine Dining Down the Road
And by the way, this has nothing to do with stats or anything I’ve noticed in human behaviour, it’s literally just my opinion on the concept of fine dining.
So, once upon a time, dining out was about more than just the food and excellent service; it was about being seen and letting people know where you could afford to be surrounded by noise, sparkle and a certain type of crowd.
The louder the room, the better the night. But lately, something’s shifted. Maybe the pandemic? Blame the pandemic, I know, but it’s true? I’m convinced that since COVID, the spectacle of fine dining in the city has suddenly dimmed.
There was a time when loud dining was synonymous with luxury. Gold bottles popping, tables packed shoulder-to-shoulder, laughter echoing off marble walls, whether it was a fake laugh, I don’t know.
But the scene was undoubtedly as much about visibility as it was about the way the prawns so elegantly clawed onto the rim of the martini glass. Restaurants became theatres of status, each dish an act, each waiter part of the show.
A wonderful dining experience no longer needs the constant social buzz, the endless need to be photographed, tagged, and noticed… It’s exhausting.
No, the new benchmark of sophistication for me is stillness, an intimate room, low lighting, the quiet hum of conversation, and the luxury of not needing to shout.
Why True Luxury Has Gone Silent
Let’s explore this from a societal angle, not just my personal view.
The shift towards quiet dining isn’t just about mood lighting or ambience. It’s obviously cultural, and almost philosophical. Here’s what’s really happening underneath:
Privacy has become the new currency. In a world where everything is broadcast, overshared, tagged, and photographed, having a meal without an audience feels almost sacred. It’s why small, tucked-away restaurants are the new ‘it’ spots - even if no one knows their names.
Authenticity has become aspirational. We’ve hit a cultural saturation point. People want real food made by real hands, not gimmicks.
That’s why local spots, the ones where the chef knows your name because he remembers when you were three years old and you lobbed a vegetable samosa across the room while having a temper tantrum, feel infinitely more luxurious than the flashiest central London brasserie.
Wealth fatigue is real. I watched countless TikTok videos about Carbone coming to London and pondered the thought of going. But do I really care about some guy putting on a Punch and Judy show for me just for a Caesar salad? Not really? The endless race to out-dine everyone else has lost its thrill. True luxury now lies in comfort, not competition.
Local Is the New Luxury
Okay, back to me.
If you know me, you know I’ll take my local Thai or Nepalese spot any night of the week over a salty brunch at Drunch (even there, I went to the one in St John’s Wood because I couldn’t face Mayfair).
Side note: I also have to take into consideration that I am lucky to live in an area surrounded by great restaurants, so I do have an advantage there.
But nevertheless, there’s something unbeatable about that residential feel - the warmth, the familiarity, the kind of service that isn’t performative, it’s personal. It’s not about exclusivity, it’s about connection.
And this doesn’t mean I’ll only stick to small, unknown eateries because even when I do want to elevate things, I’ll head to The Ivy… but in Blackheath, which, if you know, you know it’s ironically more intimidating than the King’s Road. Or I’ll book a table at Scott’s…but in Richmond, because it still has that local charm without the chaos of central London.
Don’t get me wrong. The butter chicken at Gymkhana and the tiramisu at Harry’s will always have a special place in my city repertoire. They’re indulgent and worth the journey. But there’s something about central that just gives…‘the masses’. Maybe it’s the crowd, maybe it’s the energy, maybe it’s just overexposure…
Okay, I’ll say it…and maybe it’s my age, but I just crave something under the radar.
Something that doesn’t try so hard. Something authentic.
This Isn’t About the Rich, It’s About Refinement
Now, this isn’t a ‘rich versus poor’ conversation because it has nothing to do with money, even though my preference would be the more affordable one. But ultimately it’s about taste, and taste evolves.
The desire for quiet dining reflects a broader hunger for peace. After years of overstimulation - social media, pop-ups, noise - maybe it’s not just me and people in a wider circle are realising that luxury isn’t about more, it’s about less, but better.
What This Says About Where Culture Is Heading
It does get me thinking that we’re entering an era where the true mark of wealth, emotional or financial, is how rested and undistracted you are.
It’s why small, residential restaurants are fully booked every weekend. Why people are choosing to dine in neighbourhoods like Richmond, Hampstead, or Blackheath instead of Mayfair.
Because privacy, subtlety, and intimacy have become the ultimate flex.
If this resonates with you, that sense of living beautifully, quietly, and intentionally, my Living in Luxury Guide breaks down how to bring that same energy into every part of your life: from the way you decorate, to how you spend your weekends, to how you dine.
You can download it here
