When I first walked into Fortnum & Mason, what struck me wasn’t the scale of the intervention, but the simple clarity of its intent. This is a building people love, intensely, daily, and in great numbers, and with that affection comes a spatial compression at the centre, a knot of customers. Everyone trying to occupy the same point in the plan, a kind of gridlock of the aisles.
What the double helix staircase does is release that tension. It gives the store its centre back. Circulation isn’t pushed to the edges or hidden behind retail; it becomes a moment of generosity right at the heart of the building. You feel the pressure lift. Movement becomes calm. The building breathes.
Projects like this only succeed when architecture and engineering operate with shared purpose. I saw that alignment very clearly here. Ben Pentreath Ltd set out an idea that was both slender and rooted in the heritage of the building. Crop Office carried that intent with precision. Ramboll’s structural work grounded the ambition, giving the form the confidence it needed. EM Tecnica brought services into the strategy rather than treating them as an afterthought. Spiers and Major shaped the light so the stair reads with a quiet continuity. And Portview orchestrated the entire process on site with remarkable discipline.
Especially impressive was the digital backbone of the project. The modelling was exact to the millimetre, every bolt, every plate, every curve interrogated before construction. That level of understanding allows decisions to be made with certainty. It reduces waste, reduces risk, and turns complexity into something navigable. Prefabrication then becomes not a workaround, but an intelligent extension of the design.
Seeing the staircase assembled, piece by piece, overnight, into the historic fabric of Piccadilly, reinforced how far collaboration can take a project when the whole team is aligned around care and clarity. This wasn’t about spectacle. It was about giving a beloved place the space it deserves.
For me, the most meaningful architectural work often lies in these quiet acts of untangling. When you take what is congested, or compromised, or simply inherited through time, and you open it up so people can move with ease again. When the functional core becomes the experiential core.
At Fortnum’s, that shift feels not just functional, but generous. A reminder that architecture and engineering, when working with intent, can improve the daily rhythm of a place without ever demanding attention for themselves.
