It was once an unstated contract underpinning the restaurant business that, in return for your custom, you would leave well fed and perhaps with a smile on your face. During your meal, they would look after your coat, your (inevitably black) umbrella, and any shopping or briefcase.
Yet, while the first part of this bargain endures, the second half is now a rarity. Fewer and fewer restaurants today operate with a full-time receptionist, let alone a full-time cloakroom attendant. There is also growing pressure on 'back of house' space as restaurants crop up in smaller units in what used to be shops, warehouses or even coal depots. As more and more restaurants adopt a more casual approach to dining – however hefty the final bill may be – customers are invariably asked to hang up their own coats or even keep them on the backs of their chairs.
This phenomenon has been led by numbers. In terms of space, fine-dining restaurants used to be 40% back of house, 60% front of house. In the past, there was enough room for decent lavatories, staff changing rooms, an elaborate kitchen, wine storage and, naturally, a cloakroom close to the reception. Yet now this ratio is closer to 30:70, as restaurateurs, facing higher rents per square foot, have sought to maximise the number of potential customers at the expense of, well, everything else.
As Richard Coraine, special adviser to Danny Meyer's New York USHG restaurants, put it, 'Our planning for cloakrooms has definitely changed given the need for space usage over time and the casual population holding on to their coats. I also think it might be a time issue where people don't want to wait to retrieve coats and just be on their way as soon as possible. I have seen spaces function as "manager offices" and then be used for coats during the chilly months. The need for storage, wine and sales space has made coats a secondary proposition.'
New York rents are extremely high, and restaurateurs have to balance the tricky act of providing what the customer wants with affordability. At the very least, they must provide a suitable kitchen and space for storing precious bottles of wine back of house.
Rising wages have also played their part. A cloakroom attendant is busy for 30 minutes at the beginning of the lunch service, slightly longer in the evening and then rushed off their feet at the end, yet is invariably under-occupied in between. Payment used to come via wages topped up with cash tips that were generous in the winter months, particularly over Christmas, but negligible in summer. Cash tips have vanished in many instances, while the need to make the receptionist more generally productive has become an imperative.
Hence, many newer restaurants have no fixed receptionist or greeter. Instead, greeting tends to fall to the waiter who happens to be closest to the front door at the time.
When I discussed this with to Matt Ashman, head of leisure and restaurants at property agents Cushman & Wakefield, he agreed this was a trend that would likely continue. 'Since the lockdown, restaurateurs are looking at properties again but with two key priorities: the first is that the space must have provision for outdoor seating and the second is that there must be the capability to service take-away deliveries. I just don't believe that any new restaurant's provision for looking after coats, bags or even my Brompton bicycle, is a restaurateur's priority anymore.'
Discarding the cloakroom may also have legal advantages. Such a formal division, where the customer hangs up their own coat in full view of where they are sitting, could clarify the tricky legal situation. According to Marcus Barclay, a partner with CMS, 'if a restaurant's cloakroom has accepted something from the customer, then the restaurant has actively accepted responsibility to take care of the things which the customer entrusts to that care'. If, however, the customer hangs up their coat in full view of their table and then it's stolen, the restaurant isn't liable.
The movement towards a more relaxed style of dining in buildings that do not have the space for cloakrooms or their attendants seems to be unstoppable. So, better keep the expensive Burberry raincoat at home, wear the Levi jacket and hang it on the back of your chair.
Unused, numbered coat hangers pictured by Rich Smith on Unsplash.
