WE'VE BEEN EXPECTING YOU

The Defiant Manor isn’t on Google Maps, so don’t try to find it. It’s a private place built for the VoD wider collective to get away, work, relax, gather, reset, and move forward.

Tucked discreetly into the folds of the countryside just outside London and surrounded by tall trees and birdsong, the manor is where they find space to breathe.

From the outside, it looks like a timeless English estate, historic brickwork, deep slate roofs, ivy climbing the facade. The interiors are calm and intentional. Old oak panelling meets concrete. Lighting is low, moody, and flattering. The air carries notes of fireplaces, bourbon, cedar, espresso, and earth after rain.

YOU'RE MEANT TO BE HERE

Downstairs, the spa is elemental: pool, steam, sauna, stone, stillness. No playlists. Just water and heat. The gym is outfitted with real weights and old-school function, pull-up bars, skipping ropes, boxing bags.

Upstairs, the suites blend Japanese simplicity with old English warmth. Heavy curtains. Concrete fireplaces. Beds that feel like a decision well made. Each room is stocked with pieces from the Future Classics collection, ready to wear. VoD Defiant Manor branded dressing gowns, slippers, towels, and stationary adorn the rooms for those who wish to relax in their room, or on their balcony writing their thoughts.

The lounges are wide and quiet. Fabrics and materials are heavyweight and sleek. Low-slung Italian leather, books that have been read more than once, turntables playing rare albums. Silence is not awkward here, it’s respected.

This is a members-only atmosphere without the performative gatekeeping. If you found yourself in this place, then you’re meant to be here.

Dinners are informal and well cooked. No ostentatious tasting menus here. Just perfect ingredients, perfectly timed. You eat late. You talk slowly. You might end the night with a drink by the firepit outside, wrapped in silence and the occasional crack of wood. You come here not to be seen, but to return to yourself.

The Defiant Manor is for recalibration. A place to be alone, together with people who get it, without needing to say it.

The people here are not influencers. They’re the kind who meet once, and understand each other instantly. Some are writers, some are designers, some are just thinkers with nothing to prove. They don’t ask what you do for a living here. They’re not here to network. They’re drawn here because it’s inevitable.

Some bring books. Some bring their work. Others bring cameras or canvases.

There’s a well-stocked open-plan kitchen where people move in and out of conversation and informal meals that may be cooked communally or not at all. You might eat in silence beside someone editing a film. You might find yourself drinking an Old Fashioned on the terrace with someone you only just met, talking about why you left the city in the first place.

Evenings are slow and intentional. A record spins. Magazines and newspapers are neatly arranged. Someone puts on an old film. The lights dim. The bar chinks. The fireplace crackles. You might write your own thoughts into the house journal left in the study.