Over the past forty years, I’ve been fortunate to check into some of the world’s most storied hotels. I’ve slept beneath the chandeliers of The Plaza in New York, been serenaded by cicadas at Amanpulo in the Philippines, sipped a Singapore Sling at Raffles, and watched the city wake from the Dorchester’s rooftop suite. I’ve stayed at the Burj Al Arab, where even the pillows come with a menu. But last night, thanks to my daughter’s TikTok, I decided to try something rather different, a night in a cocoon.

The cocoon, part of Zedwell’s latest capsule concept in central London, is less room and more pod, a sleep cell for the modern minimalist. Ludicrously centrally located, less than sixty seconds from the lights of Piccadilly Circus, it’s London’s most surprising sanctuary. Inside, a Hypnos mattress neatly tucked in with Egyptian cotton sheets, a single pillow, a compact duvet, a light, power outlet, and air filter console. The capsule itself is crafted from warm, sustainable wood, softly lit, and perfectly simple with jet black fittings. There’s a small mirror, a shelf, a couple of hooks, and a sliding door that closes with the finality of a Ford Transit van. And that’s it. No window, no thermostat, no ornamentation. Just me and the silence.

As well as being locked from the inside, for those staying multiple nights the exterior of the sliding door has a neat feature that lets you padlock it shut (buy a skinny one, as the hole is not super thick). Alternately, you can leave large bags at reception for £15 a piece. The capsules are compact but surprisingly comfortable, and Zedwell also offers female-only floors, an excellent and thoughtful idea.

Silence, of course, is relative. I’m a seasoned traveller and never without wax earplugs, so I slept remarkably well. The temperature hovered one degree too warm for my liking, a small detail but one I suspect will divide guests. The design is functional rather than luxurious but undeniably efficient. The Wi-Fi, though, was fast, a pleasant surprise in a place that strips away almost every other distraction.

Zedwell’s ambition is scale. The hotel has 965 rooms across seven floors, broken into clusters accessible only by keycard. Bathrooms and showers are shared, a reality that takes a moment of mental adjustment for those accustomed to marble ensuites. Bring flip flops or sliders, you’ll want to leave them neatly outside your pod before turning in. Cleaners patrol frequently, though the morning after a heavy night in Soho, I did step over an unfortunate reminder of London’s nightlife.

The showers are hot, though require the repeated push of a button to maintain the flow, a design clearly intended to conserve water but one that turns washing into a rhythmic workout. Towels are no longer included, a change made from 1 November, and a fatal oversight on my part. Fortunately, Shahan, the ever-unflappable deputy manager, was quick to lend one for a £5 hire fee.

All guests must present their ID, and check-in and check-out are simple: check-in from 3:00 PM, check-out by 10:00 AM, with early and late options available for a small additional fee.

For all its quirks, the experience worked. I was, quite literally, snug as a bug in a rug. At £40.50 a night (booking direct with a discount code), this was London hospitality stripped back to its bare essentials, and in that honesty lies its charm.

Zedwell’s cocoon isn’t for everyone, but it is a fascinating glimpse into a growing movement redefining urban travel. It’s a place for those who value sleep over service, simplicity over spectacle. After decades of white-glove luxury, I found the austerity oddly refreshing. Sometimes, it seems, less really is more.

By Justin Cooke, Editor-in-Chief, Breaking Travel News