As of 2026, afternoon tea at The Ritz London starts at around £70 per person. Yes, you read that right. That’s more than a fancy steak dinner, a week’s worth of coffee shop visits, or roughly the price of three nice sweaters from the sale rack. It’s the kind of price tag that makes you instinctively clutch your wallet and whisper, “I hope the tea comes with a foot massage.”
But hold on—don’t spit out your grocery-store chamomile just yet. That £70 isn’t just for a bag of hot water. It includes a whole experience. We’re talking unlimited sandwiches, scones with clotted cream from Devon, and a selection of cakes that would make your grandma weep with joy. Oh, and the tea itself is bottomless, though saying “bottomless” next to The Ritz feels a bit like calling a ballroom a “big room with chairs.”
What You Actually Get For Your Hard-Earned Cash
Picture this: you arrive in a lobby that looks like a wedding cake exploded inside a palace. A pianist is playing something piano-y in the corner. You sit down on a velvet chair so plush you feel like you’ve been hugged by a royal corgi. Then, a waiter appears—not walks, but appears—with a pot of tea that costs more per sip than your phone bill.
First come the sandwiches. Cucumber, smoked salmon, egg and cress. They’re tiny, but somehow perfect, like little edible haikus. You eat one and think, “I could eat thirty of these.” Then you remember the price tag and decide to savour each one like it’s a family heirloom. The scones arrive warm, and you will have an existential crisis over whether to put jam or cream first. (Spoiler: at The Ritz, it’s jam first, then cream. Yes, Cornwall, we know you disagree.)
By the time you reach the macarons, you’re full, slightly dizzy from caffeine, and you’ve spent the equivalent of a small utility bill. But you don’t care, because for two hours, you lived the life of someone who doesn’t check their bank account before entering a grocery store. That feeling? That’s part of what you’re paying for.
9 best champagne afternoon teas in London 2026
The “Is It Worth It?” Voice In Your Head
Let’s be real: for most of us, £70 on tea is like buying a gold-plated toaster. It’s ridiculous, but sometimes we want to feel ridiculous in a fancy way. You’re not paying for the tea leaves; you’re paying for the waiter to call you “Madam” or “Sir” without a hint of irony. You’re paying for the audible “OH WOW” you let out when you see the room’s chandelier. You’re paying for a story you can tell your mates over a £3.50 pot at the local café.
If you’re on a budget, this is a splurge-and-skip-lunch-for-a-week kind of deal. It’s not an impulse purchase like grabbing a biscuit at the till. It’s a planned event, like a birthday, a retirement, or a “I just got through a terrible Tuesday and I deserve this” celebration. And honestly? Some people spend that much on a concert ticket to stand in a sweaty crowd. Here, you get to sit, eat carbs, and pretend you own a monocle.
How To Afford It Without Selling A Kidney
First tip: book for a weekday. The price is sometimes lower, and you won’t feel the pressure of a bustling room. Second tip: consider the High Tea option, which is a bit less formal and includes a glass of champagne for a similar price. Or, do what I did and go for your birthday—make your friends split the bill. Just kidding. Mostly.
Jessie & Jake: High Tea at The Ritz
Another trick? Look for afternoon tea deals on sites like Groupon or Klook. Sometimes The Ritz offers a slightly reduced rate for off-peak times. Of course, you’ll be eating at 3pm on a Tuesday, but frankly, so is everyone else who’s smart enough to save £15. You still get the tiny sandwiches. You still get the silver teapot. You just get it with a side of “I’m a savvy spender” pride.
The Verdict (Sipped and Considered)
So, how much is tea at The Ritz? About the price of a nice pair of shoes you can’t really afford. But if you go with the right attitude—curiosity, a willingness to be fancy, and a tolerance for tiny sandwiches—it’s an experience that feels like a little vacation from ordinary life. You’ll leave feeling like you’ve been dusted with powdered sugar, slightly sleepier than you expected, and with a strong urge to go home and make a normal cup of tea in your pyjamas.
Just don’t ask the waiter to bag up the leftover scones. Trust me. They don’t do that. I checked.
