The City of London Never Dies

The Square Mile's Seductive Reinvention

My love affair with the City of London began long before I ever worked there.

I first came to London as a teenage tourist, wandering through the grey drizzle with wide eyes and a pocket map. But it was during my years at PwC Zurich, starting in 1999, that the City began to cast its real spell. I had a colleague there—Mike, an Englishman of the old school. Sharp suits, sharp tongue, and far too fond of a drink. He soon became my closest friend.

Mike had worked in the City for decades, and he filled my ears with stories: boozy lunches that turned into dinners, Christmas parties that ended in scandal, promotions won and lost over pints and politics. There was something mythic about it all. I visited London often back then, and every time I did, I felt it calling. The pulse, the promise, the power.

So when Allianz, the German insurance giant, offered me a job in 2003 at their new Marine and Aviation Insurance firm in the City, I didn’t hesitate. This was my chance to live the legend—before the City changed forever.

In May 2003, I moved to London and began working in the City.

On my very first day, I crossed London Bridge at 8:30 a.m. with thousands of others—shoulder to shoulder, coat collars raised, marching into the heart of the City like a quiet army.

The wind coming off the Thames caught the morning light just so, and for a moment, it felt like a ritual. The clatter of heels, the drone of buses, the rumble of distant deliveries—it was music.

We moved together, heads down, past the Monument, past the traders barking into their phones, toward the glinting towers and the stone façades of Mincing Lane. That was where I would spend my first chapter—a young German freshly arrived, stepping into the most legendary financial district on earth.

I didn’t know the shortcuts yet. I didn’t know the lunch spots.

But I knew one thing: I had made it.

It was drizzling, of course. It always drizzles when you’re about to start something big.

Back then, the Square Mile was still very much the stern, pinstriped domain of bankers, brokers, and barristers. You could practically hear the leather soles tapping out the heartbeat of global finance. But if you lingered past 7 p.m., the place went dead. Pubs emptied, blinds were drawn, shutters clanked. The City had no soul after dark—only spreadsheets.

How things have changed.

If you want to understand just how dramatic this change has been, read Simon Hunt’s The Nedification of the Square Mile in City A.M. It’s a powerful meditation on what has happened to the City since The Ned opened its glorious doors in 2017—and I can only agree with every word. In fact, I lived it.

I left Allianz in 2007. A year later, in 2008, I moved to America, chasing new opportunities, new freedoms, and a new life. But London never let go of me completely. I kept coming back regularly, drawn to its rhythm, its gravity, its stubborn pulse.

From 2012 until the start of the pandemic, I had my office just around the corner from The Ned, in Old Jewry. It was a modest but elegant building, high ceilings, thick walls, the scent of old mahogany meeting the hum of MacBooks and Bloomberg terminals. We were part of a new wave of firms—agile, international, mixing law, finance, and tech. But when COVID hit, our landlord did what many City landlords did: collapsed the company, pulled a phoenix scheme, and vanished with our deposit. We sued. We won. But we never went back.

And yet I still go back to The Ned.

Because The Ned is not just a hotel. It’s not just a member’s club. It’s not just another Soho House spin-off with jazz bands and overpriced oysters. The Ned is a statement. A love letter to a City that refuses to die.

A Gentlemen’s Club for the Post-Brexit Age

Built in the former Midland Bank building, The Ned opened in 2017 like a decadent phoenix from the ashes of austerity. Vaults turned into cocktail lounges. Boardrooms transformed into boudoirs of business seduction. You walk in and you feel it immediately: this is not Mayfair’s arrogance, not Shoreditch’s irony. This is the City finally learning to enjoy itself.

It was a revelation.

Back in 2003, if you took a client out, it was to a pub on Watling Street or maybe Simpsons if you were really pushing the boat out. You wore a tie or they wouldn’t let you in. Now? You take them to The Ned. You sit under velvet chandeliers, clink martinis by the rooftop pool, close deals between jazz sets and Negronis. The soul of London’s business class has shifted—and The Ned was the tipping point.

And what does that tell us?

It tells us that London, like any great man, adapts. Paris is like a woman—elegant, proud, sometimes aloof, resisting change with poetic defiance. London is like a man: functional, focused, pragmatic. Not always graceful, but always delivering. He doesn’t care how he looks doing it—he’ll roll up his sleeves, shave his head, grow a beard, whatever it takes to stay in the game.

From Dead Streets to Hotel Suites

Simon Hunt’s article makes a startling point: in the last decade alone, 23 office buildings in the City have applied to convert into hotels. That’s not a trend—it’s a revolution.

Fifteen years ago, you wouldn’t dream of staying in the Square Mile unless you had to. It was sterile at night, haunted by ghosts of expense accounts and 4 p.m. G&Ts. Now? Now the City is alive in the evenings. The streets around Bank and Moorgate buzz with the soft lighting of lobbies, the low murmurs of concierge desks, the scent of cologne and ambition. Hotel bars filled with start-up founders and venture capitalists. Dining rooms filled with couples whispering about IPOs over oysters.

We used to say the City was for work, and the West End was for play. That line is gone. The City now offers both—and more.

That’s not just smart urban planning. That’s London doing what London does best: following the market.

Brexit came. Corona came. The City bled. But it didn’t die. It evolved.

Memory, Struggle, and the Shape of a Street

I still remember walking past The Ned in the early days. It was like watching your old maths teacher suddenly become a rock star. This building that had stood solemn and grey for decades now glowed golden and seductive. It made you proud and a little bit jealous. But mostly it made you believe.

Believe that this City is still capable of surprise.

Believe that commerce and culture can mix.

Believe that even in the midst of post-Brexit gloom, London had a card up its sleeve.

When our landlord collapsed and tried to shaft us—me and the other tenants—we fought back. We won in court. But what I remember most isn’t the legal victory. It’s the evenings I spent afterwards at The Ned, taking clients or friends there, raising a glass not just to survival, but to resurgence.

Because that’s the City spirit. It never dies.

What Can London Do For You?

Now let me turn the question around: what can London do for you?

Because here’s the truth. Even if you don’t want to live in the UK—frankly, the taxes are a mess right now—London still has something no other city in Europe can offer: magnetism. It is the capital of global seriousness. People come here to do real things. To raise money. To close deals. To launch. To rebuild.

You can base yourself elsewhere—Dubai, Dublin, Zug, wherever suits your tax strategy—but London should still be part of your plan.

Want to meet clients face-to-face in an environment that exudes class and competence? Rent a private dining room at The Ned or a suite at the Langham. Want to shoot professional videos or host a branded podcast? There are soundproof studios in Clerkenwell and Shoreditch that make Berlin look like a student dorm. Want to host a high-end retreat or product launch? Invite 20 top clients to a townhouse in Mayfair, or host an afternoon summit in the City followed by drinks under chandeliers.

And if you're bold? Set up a UK company—but do it right.

A UK Limited Partnership (LP) or even a UK Limited Company, when structured correctly with no UK-source trade and no UK-based management, can create a prestige presence without a crushing tax burden. Get a Mayfair or Bank address, a sharp-looking website, and instant credibility in the eyes of clients and investors. Add international substance—offices, contractors, IP management—and you're operating a truly global business, with London as the elegant tip of the spear.

London is not about tax anymore. It’s about positioning.

Cities Are Ideas

In the end, cities aren’t bricks and concrete. They are ideas.

Paris is the idea of beauty. Berlin is the idea of resistance. Dubai is the idea of speed. But London—ah, London is the idea of reinvention.

You can see it in The Ned. In the way the Square Mile has shifted from stiff suits to rolled-up sleeves. In how hotel lobbies now outnumber law libraries. In how fintech firms take clients to wine tastings, not steak houses. In how you can have a cappuccino and a conference call from a rooftop pool overlooking St Paul’s.

I’ve been part of this story for over twenty years. And I still get chills walking down Poultry Street, past the entrance to The Ned, remembering the first time I stood there in 2017 and said to myself: This is it. This is the future.

Let’s Talk — Seriously

If you're thinking about using London as a base, or simply want to brainstorm how it might fit into your international strategy—book a consultation with me.

Whether it’s about structuring a UK LP with no UK tax exposure, setting up a “Plan B” London office to impress global clients, or just figuring out where London fits in your international puzzle, I’m here to help.

Because I don’t just write about this. I lived it. And I still live it.

I’ve sat in courtrooms fighting rogue landlords, in member’s clubs raising glasses to survival, and in rooftop lounges closing six-figure deals.

London taught me a lot.

Maybe it’s time it taught you something too.