Ferrari Mayfair Cars & Coffee
Gentle challenge
When I saw that Ferrari Mayfair was holding one of its Sunday morning Cars & Coffee mornings, I hesitated.
As someone who doesn’t own a Ferrari, and can’t realistically dream of owning one, I wasn’t sure I belonged. Would this be an event for people like me, or would I just be standing outside, looking in while the owners gathered?
Then I thought about the kinds of cars that might turn up.
So I went anyway.
More Than a Dealership
On paper, Ferrari Mayfair is a showroom. On a Sunday morning, it feels more like an accidental motoring festival.
Berkeley Square is already one of my favourite places in London for car spotting. The garden in the centre is a genuine escape from the busy streets, with plenty of benches where you can sit, relax and wait for the sound of the next approaching supercar.
During Cars & Coffee, the whole atmosphere changes. Families out on a Sunday stroll stop to admire the cars. Tourists gather along the pavements. Enthusiasts arrive carrying lenses almost as big as the cars themselves. Every few minutes the mood shifts as another machine turns into the square, its engine note bouncing between the buildings before the crowd instinctively parts to let it through.
It doesn’t feel like a dealership. It feels like London has stumbled into hosting its own miniature motoring festival.
The Reality of the Crowds
With that excitement comes one thing worth knowing. It gets busy. Very busy.
On the morning I visited, Berkeley Square was packed. As with anywhere in central London, moving through big crowds is hard work, but here there’s an added complication. Everyone is looking through a camera, a phone screen or a viewfinder, hunting for the perfect angle. People don’t just stand on the pavements. They spill into the road, constantly repositioning as new cars arrive.
For anyone with reduced mobility, a visual impairment, or simply a preference for quieter spaces, it’s worth knowing that getting around becomes noticeably harder during the busiest spells.
Oddly, I wouldn’t change it. The excitement is infectious. Every distant engine note turns heads. Conversations pause. Cameras go up. Nobody quite knows what’s coming next, and that’s part of the magic.
The Cars
And what a selection there was. Modern Ferraris sat alongside classics, with beautiful examples stretching as far as I could see. I spotted my first ever Ferrari 296 Speciale, while inside the showroom sat two cars that drew constant crowds: the incredible F80 and the legendary LaFerrari.
The showroom was so busy that I decided not to fight my way inside. Instead, I’ve made a mental note to come back during the week when it’s quieter. Some cars deserve to be appreciated without peering over dozens of shoulders.
It wasn’t only Ferraris that made the morning. A bright orange Lotus Exige, one of my personal favourites, caught my eye, alongside a Corvette and a metallic purple BMW 840 that stood out beautifully amongst the sea of Italian red.
What I enjoyed almost as much as the cars was watching everyone else react. Children pointed out each new arrival to their parents. Passers-by who had no idea the event was happening stopped to take photographs. Some stayed a few minutes before carrying on with their day. Others were pulled in completely.
The whole thing only lasts a couple of hours on a Sunday morning, which makes it easy to fit into a day out in London. Even if you simply wander the square once before heading elsewhere, it’s well worth the detour.
How I Go Car Spotting
Because of my sight, I don’t recognise approaching cars the way most people do. When a car is moving, I rarely catch the details. I don’t pick out a badge or read the individual styling.
Instead, I look at proportions. How low is it? How wide is it? Is the roofline unusual? Does the silhouette look different from everything else around it? Over the years I’ve become surprisingly good at identifying cars from their overall shape alone.
That morning I’d wandered away from the busiest part of the crowd to take a short break when I noticed a black Ferrari turning into Berkeley Square. Something about its proportions looked unusual, so I took a photograph as it drove past. Close behind came a white McLaren. I captured that too. Then, bringing up the rear, came an incredibly wide black-and-white car unlike anything else I’d seen that morning. Again, I pressed the shutter without really knowing what I’d just photographed.
A few minutes later, all three parked in the square. Walking over, I realised what I’d actually caught. The Ferrari was a Daytona SP3, one of my favourite Ferraris ever built. The McLaren was a P1, one of the legendary Holy Trinity of hybrid hypercars. And the final mystery car? A Pagani Utopia. My first ever sighting.
Seeing those three alone would have made the journey worthwhile. Working out what they were afterwards made it even better.
A Word on the Staff Score
An honest note on one of the scores below. There were no staff to speak of. No access team, no marshals, no welcome desk. This is a free Sunday gathering on a public square, not a ticketed festival with a brief to manage crowds and guide people in.
So there was nobody to help me. Equally, there was nobody to get in my way, nothing to queue for, and nobody deciding whether I belonged. On that basis I’ve given staff interaction full marks. When there’s no process to navigate, the absence is the smooth experience.
Why I’ll Go Again
That’s one of the great joys of car spotting in London. You never really know what you’re going to find. One Sunday might be all Ferraris, Lamborghinis and Porsches. The next might turn into a parade of million-pound hypercars most people only ever see in magazines.
In some ways my sight makes that unpredictability more enjoyable. I often don’t know exactly what I’ve found until I can get closer or look back at my photographs. Every outing carries a real element of discovery.
If you’re wondering whether you need to own a Ferrari to turn up to a Cars & Coffee like this, the answer is simple. No. You just need a curiosity about cars, a free Sunday morning, and a willingness to go anyway.
Score the experience, not just the access.
Transport, parking, signage, crowds, orientation.
Queues, ticket checks, security, first noise and lighting.
Lighting, sound, predictability, space to take a break.
Pathways, surfaces, ramps, signage, resting areas.
Sightlines, distance from action, atmosphere, audio clarity.
Clarity, respect, knowledge of access needs, consistency.
Pride, learning, joy inside difficulty. Would you go again?
Small wins, kindnesses, overall meaningfulness.
Final Reflection
Cars & Coffee asks very little of you and gives back a surprising amount. It’s busy, and a little chaotic, and the crowds are the real challenge of the morning. But there’s no gate, no ticket and no pressure. Turn up, take it at your own pace, and see what rolls into the square.
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