The Tabernacle 34 35 Powis Square London W11 2ay
So, picture this: a grey Tuesday in London, and I’m absolutely lost in Powis Square. I was hunting for a friend’s new flat, my phone battery was dead, and I felt like I’d step...
So, picture this: a grey Tuesday in London, and I’m absolutely lost in Powis Square. I was hunting for a friend’s new flat, my phone battery was dead, and I felt like I’d stepped into a Wes Anderson film—all stucco and secret gardens. Then I stopped dead in front of a weirdly humble doorway at number 34-35.
The sign said “The Tabernacle”. I thought, “Great, a church. Perfect for my spiritual crisis of being lost.” Only, it wasn’t just any old church. It was a punk-rock community hub disguised as a Victorian chapel. And that, my friends, is the whole story of this place.
You see, 34-35 Powis Square isn’t just an address. It’s a swirling paradox tucked into the posh belly of Notting Hill. It’s where hipsters, toddlers, and pensioners all somehow co-exist without killing each other. (Well, mostly.)
Let’s start with the building itself. It was originally a Wesleyan chapel in the 1860s—all high ceilings and stern religious vibes. But by the 1970s, the congregation had vanished faster than a diet on a Friday night. The place was abandoned.
Then came the squatters. Oh, the glorious squatters. They took over the chapel, painted it purple, and turned it into a rehearsal space for bands. This is where the legend really kicks off.
Think about that. The same floors where Methodists once sang hymns were now stomped on by punk, reggae, and new wave artists. The Clash? They hung out here. Bob Marley? He jammed here. It’s basically a holy site for music nerds.
Fast forward to today, and the Tabernacle is a community arts centre with a very specific vibe. It’s like your eccentric aunt who used to be a roadie. It’s got a bar, a theatre, a recording studio, and a massive garden where people actually grow vegetables. In London! That’s more miraculous than any sermon.
Here’s the bit that makes me chuckle: the contrast. You walk out the front door, and you’re in Powis Square, which is all pristine white terraces and £5 million houses. Next door? Notting Hill’s most authentic community spot, where you can grab a cheap coffee and hear someone discuss anarchist poetry.
The Tabernacle, London events & tickets 2026 | Ents24
I once sat in the garden there, sipping a lukewarm tea, and watched a kids’ drumming workshop happening next to a spoken word session about gentrification. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone. It’s a place that simply refuses to be polished into oblivion.
And let’s talk about the bar. It’s called “The Tab”, and it feels like a secret hideout. Wooden tables, a tiny stage, and posters for events that sound suspiciously like “tap dance meets dubstep.” It’s the kind of bar where you might end up chatting to a playwright or a plumber, and both will have better stories than you.
The theatre space upstairs is tiny—like, intimately claustrophobic. But that’s the magic. You’re so close to the actors you can see their sweat. It’s perfect for weird, experimental plays that would get laughed out of the West End. I saw a one-woman show about a toaster once. I’m still not sure if it was genius or madness.
Now, here’s a side note just for you: check out their cinema schedule. They do themed nights—like “Bad Movie Tuesdays” where they show stuff like ‘The Room’ and the audience throws popcorn. It’s glorious chaos.
What saves the Tabernacle from being just another “artsy” spot is its stubbornness. In a neighbourhood that’s slowly turning into a Gatsby costume party, this place clings to its rough edges. The floorboards creak. The toilets are suspicious. The staff don’t fake-smile at you. It’s honest.
THE TABERNACLE - 59 Photos & 19 Reviews - 35 Powis Square, London
You can also hire the rooms for parties or meetings. I know a guy who had his wedding reception there. The playlist went from ‘Feliz Navidad’ to ‘London Calling’ in ten minutes. That’s the Tabernacle spirit.
The Powis Square garden out front is a whole other story. Technically it’s private for residents, but the Tabernacle residents have a key. So if you’re taking a class there, just politely ask someone to let you in. (Pro tip: smile and say you’re looking for the “community gardening project.” Works 60% of the time.)
What I love most is that it’s unapologetically local. It’s not curated for Instagram. You won’t find neon signs or fake grass walls. You’ll find a noticeboard with a half-torn flyer for “Salsa & Sobriety” next to a note about a lost cat. It’s alive.
So next time you’re wandering around the glitzy streets of Notting Hill, just remember: behind that elegant square, inside a former chapel, there’s a punk heart still beating. Walk in, order a drink, and let the chaos find you. Trust me, it will.
And if you hear someone playing a ukulele version of a Sex Pistols song? That’s not a bug. That’s the feature. That’s The Tabernacle.
