The last hour before boarding a flight to London used to be such a gloomy affair. Virgin’s lounge was an airless, windowless space, inexplicably placed before security. Apart from the free flowing Champagne, the F&B offerings always seemed lacklustre, and we could never really enjoy any of it anyway, because we were second guessing what mood Homeland Security might be in, and whether having that last glass during the final call would lead to a mad dash to the gate with our shoelaces undone. (Note to the TSA: why, when the rest of the world has relaxed its rules on footwear, are we still being asked to take our shoes off? Aren’t our X-ray machines as good?) But we digress: in spring 2012 Virgin opened its new $7m JFK lounge. Flight side. Right beside the gates it uses. Let joy be unconfined!
The new Clubhouse is much larger, with a floor-to-ceiling panoramic view over the runway. When we flew out recently, the weather was ghastly – all colourless skies and lashing rain – but with Hurricane Sandy just around the corner, we knew were lucky to be flying, full stop. Inside, all was Virgin bright and shiny, with fancy retro-cool Eames and Jacobsen classic flourishes. How we wish that Virgin could take over the long defunct, gloriously sculptural Eero Saarinen TWA Flight Centre at JFK. Instead, we have to make do with Open House New York annual visits (or at least we hope they’ll stay annual), and a few Saarinen bits and bobs in the Clubhouse.
There’s less scope at JFK for the architectural shenanigans that Virgin have engaged in at their flagship in Heathrow. There’s clearly been no option to play with different levels, so there aren’t sunken lounges or Grey Goose Lofts. Instead, the space at JFK has some smart make-do visual choreography: spaces are separated by Niemeyer-like snaking counters and an overall lack of straight lines; the ceiling undulates with hundreds of golden lighting rods – everything is done to try and avoid the traditional sterility of the airport lounge.
There’s a Bumble & Bumble salon (only the more elaborate treatments come with a tariff), a pool table and a Mac desktop work bar (and free WiFi everywhere). There are myriad lounge areas, and we can just imagine the meeting in the creative department of Virgin HQ where the “blue sky thinking” about “zones” was done. We would actually have quite liked a zone that combined a chair with a table that was of a size that made it useful for both laptop work and dining à deux, which isn’t really on offer – not photogenic enough, probably. If we’d complained about this to the staff, they might have quickly built us something: unlike the curmudgeonly walking cadavers that staff certain American airlines we’re used to, these guys can’t do enough for you. Their ceaseless Chorus Line sunny disposition is almost unnerving – and because the Brits that dominate the lounge aren’t known for their generosity with tipping, we imagine they aren’t just high-kicking for dollars.
We sat in the café and caught up on our emails and drank Champagne until our food order arrived. This is where the Clubhouse really excels. We’re burger obsessives, and spend hours in discussion about what rates as the best burger in New York, from the Minetta Tavern and the foie gras sliders at Robuchon to Shake Shack and Corner Bistro in the Village. The burger at the Virgin Clubhouse in JFK is as good as any of them – moist, cooked perfectly medium rare, well-seasoned, with an excellent texture that’s neither too rough nor overly processed. Great fries too. You certainly won’t have a better burger at JFK, and you won’t find many better anywhere else either.