Abbott and Holder
30 Museum Street, WC1A 1LH · 020 7637 3981
gifts
IF YOU’RE ANYTHING LIKE an earlier incarnation of me, you all too often find yourself groping for inspiration when the occasion requires you to source and purchase a really special gift. It’s tempting to chuck money at something safe but pedestrian that, in the giving, gratifies neither you nor the recipient. Imagine my delight when I stumbled across Abbott and Holder during a disconsolate trawl of the internet. Not only did shopping become a joy, not a chore, I found myself, with little apparent effort, burnishing a reputation for taste, thoughtfulness and originality. It’s high time to take that chance discovery and pay it forward.
A redoubt of erudite old Bloomsbury that’s made a cosy niche for itself in the 21st century, Abbott and Holder is a gem of an independent gallery that specialises in British drawings and watercolours priced between £250 and £10,000. Every genre, from landscape to costume design, is represented, as are artists both celebrated and obscure. Sign up for its handy ‘List’, circulated over email at regular intervals, and you’ll be kept abreast of the latest acquisitions, as well as the occasional flash sale. Better still, when present buying, you’re not actually obliged to select a picture yourself. You can put money behind the counter, then invite the recipient to go in and make his or her own choice.
See also: The Armoury Of St James’s
The Armoury of St James’s
17 Piccadilly Arcade, SW1Y 6NH · 020 7493 5082
gifts
A GLORIOUS TOYBOX for boys of all ages, The Armoury of St James’s is strategically situated between Savile Row and Jermyn Street. Few of the prospective punters who swing by en route from one to the other leave without falling under the spell of its chok-a-blok wares: military antiques and royal memorabilia redolent of the days of tropical legations and cigar-scented messes. Toby Pennington, the friendly and knowledgeable front-of-house, has compared the ambience to that of John Steed’s flat in The Avengers. To that recondite reference (what can I say? If you know, you know), I could just as easily add The Charge of the Light Brigade, Oh! What a Lovely War and Carry On Up the Khyber.
On walls and in cabinets, signed presentation portraits of kings and viceroys jostle for room with regimental brooches and porcelain figurines of Seaforth Highlanders. Between them snake long lines of British, Indian and Napoleonic toy soldiers, hand-painted and available for purchase singly or in boxed sets. With prices starting at £12 and reaching to upwards of £10,000, it’s remarkably – in fact, dangerously – easy to alchemise a casual interest into a lifelong collecting passion. Among an international clientele hailing from as far afield as Australia and the US, Toby tells me that Nelson is more popular than Wellington, but that the appeal of Churchill is evergreen. I find that curiously reassuring.
See also: Abbott And Holder, Bentleys
Bates
73 Jermyn Street, SW1Y 6NP · 020 7734 4707
hatters
LOCATED ON JERMYN STREET since 1898, and now enfolded by the flagship store of top shirtmaker Hilditch & Key, Bates is home to probably the most photographed cat in London. Crowned with a jaunty topper, Binks has turned his friendly, if glassy, gaze on generations of customers who’ve come in quest of top-quality headgear. As a kitten, he ‘adopted’ the firm way back in 1921. Stuffed upon his death, he’s been omnipresent ever since.
Without pretending to the long and illustrious heritage of its chief competitor, Lock & Co, Bates is nevertheless one of England’s premier hatters. While adhering to the precepts of the late Victorian and Edwardian eras, when most of the rules governing male headgear were codified, it’s proud to keep abreast of the latest trends, purveying a wide range of linen, cotton, tweed and wool caps, as well as traditional bowlers, fedoras, homburgs and trilbies. It’s in the summer months, and especially during the Season, that hats come into their own. Bates does a fine line in panamas for Henley, Wimbledon and Lord’s. Woven by hand from toquilla palm straw, they come in a variety of styles and grades, with the most expensive, the Ultrafino, weighing scarcely more than a sheet of tissue paper. For formal occasions, Bates can supply an antique but fully refurbished silk hat at a price to reflect its rarity.
See also: Oliver Brown, Lock & Co
Bentleys
91 Lower Sloane Street, SW1W 8DA · 020 7730 6832
gifts
IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE there was once a time when international travel – the getting there, I mean, not the actual destination – was anything other than a penance. Yes, it’s miraculous that, from London, one can reach Los Angeles in 11 hours. Sadly, for most of that time, one is liable to be fretting about deep vein thrombosis while wishing that the individual in the seat behind would put his trainers back on.
To be transported to an altogether more gracious era, when luxury liners like the Aquitania and the Normandie plied the Atlantic and flying boats and airships took to the skies, one need only visit Bentleys. Specialising in vintage luggage and travel ephemera of the highest quality, it also caters to what owner Tim Bent calls the ‘gentlemanly vices’: drinking, smoking, motoring, racing and yachting. Small wonder that a significant number of his clients are discerning ladies in search of one-of-a-kind presents for their menfolk. The largest and most evocative items in store are the steamer trunks by Louis Vuitton, Goyard, Hermès and Asprey, some of which still bear the labels and monograms of their original owners. At Bentleys, functionality is no impediment to elegance, as its stock of antique silver, crystal, leather, shagreen, crocodile and tortoiseshell so stylishly attests. Cocktail shakers and shooting sticks, cigarette boxes and globes: never has the non-essential seemed quite so…well, essential.
See also: The Armoury Of St James’s
Budd
3 Piccadilly Arcade, SW1Y 6NH · 020 7493 0139
tailors & outfitters
INHERENTLY PATRICIAN, Budd has had a presence in the Piccadilly Arcade since 1910. Wars, recessions and sartorial revolutions have come and gone, but it remains steadfast: a bastion of grandeur and reassuring continuity in an increasingly slapdash and throwaway world. Indeed, it’s that very word, ‘throwaway’, that defines everything Budd is not. Of such superlative quality are its shirts that, with appropriate care, they’re liable to last a decade or more (if, at the end of that time, they look at all tired, you can bring them in for renovation). Whether bespoke, made-to-measure or off-the-shelf, a Budd shirt is expressly designed to improve with washing and ironing.
Collar-wise, the house style is best described as ‘forward’. By that, I don’t mean ‘fashion forward’ – one doesn’t come to Budd for that: even its youngest clients tend to fall into the category of ‘emerging traditionalists’ – but merely that it sits smartly, with its points closer together than the comparatively informal cutaway. Colour-wise, think of a garden designed by Gertrude Jekyll, with cornflower blue a perennially popular staple. I hardly need add that the fabrics are sublime in their softness, comfort and durability. Lesser shirtmakers pay lip-service to the mantra that ‘the customer knows best’. Here, he does not. At Budd, the expertise is vested in whoever stands behind, not in front of, the counter.
See also: Meyer & Mortimer, Henry Poole & Co, Turnbull & Asser
Cecconi’s
5A Burlington Gardens, W1S 3EP · 020 7434 1500
restaurants
A LINK IN AN EVER-LENGTHENING chain that encircles the globe from Amsterdam to Mumbai, this consistently excellent Italian is as fast-paced and stylish as The Wolseley, but somewhat less likely to attract the tourist hordes. No: those one encounters here are a blend of sharply suited businessmen, discreetly lunching ladies and well-heeled shoppers from nearby Bond Street. The shimmering décor adds to the aura of sleek and profoundly metropolitan glamour. Klismos chairs upholstered in arsenic green leather skate across a floor of zebra-striped marble, while walls of mirrored glass glitter with the light reflected from floor-to-ceiling windows that, in fine weather, can be opened to allow tables to spill out onto the pavement beyond.
All in all, it feels very Golden Age Hollywood. That’s a winner in my book. Lest I make Cecconi’s sound too hard-edged for its own good, I draw your attention to an inviting menu that features a host of unpretentious but quite delicious classics. From burrata and gnocchi to carpaccio and veal Milanese, there are few surprises. Everything you would expect is here, cooked to perfection and briskly served by a team of friendly waiters. Fresh and energetic, this is a chic spot in which to find a light but sustaining lunch that will fill you up without leaving you sedated ahead of your afternoon meetings.
See also: Elystan Street, Lpm, Medlar
George Cleverley
13 Royal Arcade, 28 Old Bond Street, W1S 4SL · 020 7493 0443
shoemakers & cobblers
AN APPARENTLY COUNTER-INTUITIVE aspect of ‘classic’ English style is its elasticity; its ability to assimilate the avant-garde into the lexicon of the accepted with surprising rapidity. George Cleverley is a case in point. Founded in 1958, it’s almost a century younger than John Lobb. Yet, in short order, it attained a worldwide reputation for impeccable craftsmanship and chic it’s only consolidated over the intervening decades. Hailing from a family of shoemakers, George Cleverley, who worked almost until the day of his death in 1991, pioneered his signature chisel toe in a city that had hitherto only worn round. Designed to ‘dress’ as much as ‘protect’, Cleverley shoes were immediately recognisable because of their elegantly tapered shape.
As such, they were speedily adopted by the likes of Alexis de Redé and Rupert Loewenstein. Since then, Cleverley has diversified from full bespoke via semi-bespoke to ready-to-wear, and from the extremely traditional to the downright outré, without yielding an inch on quality. Its showroom may be scarcely bigger than a jewellery box – reached via a corkscrew staircase, the workroom is directly overhead, with the office and last store above that – but there’s plenty here to catch the eye, not least the range of goods in Russian leather salvaged from a cargo ship that sank in 1786. Fragrant, supple and ultra-rarefied, these are wallets, washbags and passport holders unlike any others.
See also: John Lobb
Cordings
19 Piccadilly, W1J 0LA · 020 7734 0830
tailors & outfitters
CORDINGS CLAIMS TO CELEBRATE ‘understated British style’. Far be it from me to dispute the second half of that mission statement. There’s style aplenty, and it is, without question, very British indeed. But ‘understated’? I’ve a suspicion the mischievous marketing man had his tongue at least partly in his cheek when he came up with that. There’s nothing remotely understated about the veritable rainbow of trousers that can be procured here, in corduroy, needlecord, moleskin and gabardine, and in every conceivable hue from amethyst and apple green to peach and shocking pink.
Psychologists and sociologists could debate for hours the tendency of a certain kind of chap to make this detour into the outer realms of peacockery. What would not be up for discussion would be his eye for quality, which Cordings has in abundance. Renowned for its impeccable shooting gear – jackets, waistcoats, breeks, stockings and all the rest of the paraphernalia – it can just as easily supply complete looks for Twickenham, Cheltenham and Goodwood Revival. ‘Timeless’ and ‘ageless’ are the watchwords at Cordings. In the baronial splendour of its Piccadilly store, one is just as likely to encounter an embryonic Guards officer kitting himself out for Sandhurst as an elderly earl making one of his rare forays into the metropolis.
See also: Benson & Clegg, Oliver Brown, New & Lingwood
The Cow
89 Westbourne Park Road, W2 5QH · 020 7221 5400
pubs
COMMUNITY HUB AND ELITE hang-out: there must be few pubs in London that can tick both boxes with the confidence of the justly celebrated and perennially popular Cow. A fixture on the Notting Hill scene for a quarter of a century, its down-to-earth décor belies its glitzy clientele of fashionistas, socialites and well-heeled hipsters. On any given afternoon, one shoulders one’s way through the unhurried daytime drinkers at the bar to take one’s seat in the wedge-shaped dining area at the rear, where one is just as likely to be flanked by Savile Row suits and Chanel jackets as by tousled musicians on the brink of the big time.
What keeps them all coming? The food, mainly. Customers are enjoined to ‘Eat Heartily and Give the House a Good Name’. A menu featuring an impressive array of British and international dishes is an incentive to do precisely that. The Cow Special is a plate of oysters washed down with either a pint of Guinness or a glass of wine: simple but extremely satisfying. If seafood isn’t your thing – besides oysters, you can choose from crab, whelks or shrimps – you can look towards the dish du jour, available from noon to 6 PM. For around £15, an early or late lunch might comprise chicken Kiev, veal pojarski or lamb curry. I advise you to save room for pudding and/or cheese. The Cow excels at both.
See also: The Guinea Grill, The Quality Chop House, Simpson’s Tavern
Drake’s
9 Savile Row, W1S 3PF · 020 7734 2367
tailors & outfitters
SIMULTANEOUSLY AT ONE with and divergent from the tropes of classic British menswear, Drake’s is a light, bright and resolutely contemporary retort to all that is stodgy, uptight and patrician. Established by Michael Drake in 1977, its ethos owes much to the haute Bohemian style of late-career Cecil Beaton at the moment it overlapped with that of early-career David Hockney. The Drake’s look is the look of today’s monied creatives: dapper but unstructured, elegant but relatively (when not actually) informal. It’s a mood reflected in a flagship store decorated with bamboo, pot plants, jaunty upholstery and original artworks by leading painters and illustrators. While Drake’s approach to style is relaxed, its approach to quality is not.
On the contrary, the materials and finishes are first-rate. Drake’s ties, including its bestselling navy grenadine, are handmade in its factory in East London. Its button-down shirts, which come in 29 different colours, hail from Chard in Somerset. This is, as I say, recognisably British clothing, albeit with nods to Italy, the French Riviera and the preppy playgrounds of the US. That explains the abundance of denim and suede as well as corduroy and flannel, and of linen suits and matelot tops for all one’s summer getaway needs. Every bit as fresh and youthful as its garments, Drake’s accessories include printed scarves designed in-house, with patterns derived from an extensive archive amassed over several decades.
See also: Liberty, New & Lingwood, Pentreath & Hall
Elystan Street
43 Elystan Street, SW3 3NT · 020 7628 5005
restaurants
ELYSTAN STREET THE ADDRESS lies at the heart of the most pleasing part of south-west London: polished, but not intimidatingly so. Elystan Street the restaurant incorporates just enough of that authentic ‘neighbourhood’ feel to make it approachable, yet is characterised overall by an unfussy sophistication that accounts for its reputation as one of the most sought-after eateries in Chelsea.
The act of careful calibration behind Elystan Street’s success is only apparent when you really look for it. On the surface, it seems so effortless, so unforced. The décor is elegant but unassuming, the service is friendly but unobtrusive. There are no tablecloths, and nor is there is a bar. Music is blissfully absent. Whether they be working lunches or discreet tête-à-têtes, parties are generally on the small side.
So far, so low-key. The food, however, is sublime. Best summed up as ‘Modern European’, the menus of chef and co-owner Phil Howard showcase the finest seasonal produce cooked to unpretentious perfection. In summer, for example, one can partake of cool almond soup with olives, white peach, cucumber, garlic and grapes, followed by a double-baked cheese soufflé with leeks, mushrooms and truffle. In addition to à la carte, a set lunch menu of three courses is available for just £30. There are few places in London where one can dine so astonishingly well for so astonishingly little.
See also: Lpm, Medlar, Spring, Trullo
Fitzdares
020 3238 3000 · fitzdares.com
service providers
EXCELLENCE NEVER RESTS on its laurels. Pedigree and quality of service are all well and good; but if they fail to move with the times, they count for little in an ultra-competitive world. The ability to innovate while upholding traditional values is the characteristic shared by every one of the businesses in this book. It certainly accounts for Fitzdares’ reputation as Britain’s premier telephone and digital bookmaker.
Whether it be at the racecourse or on the cricket pitch, camaraderie is the essence of sportsmanship. It’s at the heart of this bookie’s ethos and has been since its earliest incarnation as T Guntrip, founded way back in 1882. Free to join, Fitzdares has in recent years embraced technology without forsaking the all-important personal touch. The result is a client experience akin to that provided by a top private bank. When you call a member of the Fitzdares team, you are speaking to a kindred spirit, not an answering machine. You’re as likely to find yourself chatting about the pros and cons of the metric system (read: Brexit) as you are to be making a wager on the outcome of anything from a horse race to a mayoral election. What’s more, it’s as easy to place a bet via email or text as it is over the phone. And if even that’s too much ‘contact’ for you, the cutting-edge but user-friendly Fitzdares app is a doddle to use.
See also: The Fitzdares Club
Floris
89 Jermyn Street, SW1Y 6JH · 020 7930 2885
grooming
THERE’S SOMETHING SUBTLY but intrinsically luxurious about the wearing of a really good scent. It may be less obvious than a bespoke suit or a pair of handmade shoes, but it creates just as indelible an impression. Operating out of the same premises on Jermyn Street since 1730, Floris has attained a stature equivalent to that of Huntsman or Tricker’s. Discreet, impeccable and very, very English, it’s both a bastion of tradition and an eternally fresh olfactory delight.
Only consider the clientele. Should you wonder what Oscar Wilde and Laurence Olivier, Horatio Nelson and Winston Churchill, have in common, you’ll find the answer is Floris. At one time or another, all of them shopped here, as did Florence Nightingale, Eva Peron and Marilyn Monroe. Of the diverse range of scents stocked on rich mahogany shelves purchased from the Great Exhibition of 1851, I oscillate between two tried-and-tested favourites: the debonair Elite, which was apparently worn by the late David Bowie, and the sophisticated Nº 89, beloved of Cary Grant and Ian Fleming. Recently, those allegiances have been called into question by Bergamotto di Positano, a new scent that, as its name implies, evokes seductive visions of la dolce vita on the sun-drenched Amalfi coast. Floris’s triple-milled, hand-wrapped soaps make perfect hostess presents. Rose Geranium or Edwardian Bouquet have never been known to fail.
See also: D.R. Harris, Geo F Trumper, Truefitt & Hill
The Guinea Grill
30 Bruton Place, W1J 6NL · 020 7409 1728
restaurants
A FAVOURITE HAUNT of generations of the cognoscenti, the pub in which The Guinea Grill is housed has the longest pedigree of any business in this book. Indeed, it’s older than the adjacent Berkeley Square by more than three centuries. Since its earliest days, when it functioned as a de facto social club and speakeasy for American diplomats and senior officers stationed in London during the Second World War, the Grill thrives off its reputation for discretion. That makes it extremely attractive to those who like to enjoy a capital lunch without attracting unseemly attention. The fact that it was frequented in her day by Greta Garbo speaks volumes. Elizabeth Taylor, Audrey Hepburn and Princess Margaret were also known to drop by, although there’s no escaping the fact that this is, at heart, a male-oriented establishment.
Unpretentious, timeless and traditional: the same adjectives can be applied to The Guinea Grill’s cooking as to its pleasantly shabby but clubbable décor, which hovers somewhere between that of a Victorian boozer and the Peers’ Dining Room in the Palace of Westminster. Prawn cocktail, smoked salmon, award-winning steak-and-kidney pie and truly exceptional dry-aged beef: this is uncomplicated grub geared towards the appetites of ex-public schoolboys and business bigwigs who’ve been known to close mega-deals over the crisp tablecloths and bottles of burgundy.
See also: Noble Rot, The Quality Chop House, Simpson’s Tavern
Harry’s Bar
26 South Audley Street, W1K 2PD · 020 7408 0844
restaurants
IF YOU’VE EVER WONDERED what it would be like to dine inside a rose, ask a member of Harry’s Bar. They should be able to tell you. No, I’m not letting my imagination get the better of me. The interiors of this, the prettiest restaurant in London, are bathed in an around-the-clock glow that does wonders for the complexion. Shaded chandeliers and sconces of Murano glass offset by Fortuny fabrics of pink and green evoke La Serenissima at its lushest and most opulent. While a plethora of mirrors and row upon row of framed cartoons by Peter Arno keep the ambience on the right side of sugary, the fact remains that this is a feminine space, utterly beloved by ladies who can and do lunch – often.
It would be a mistake, though, to assume that Harry’s Bar is not sophisticated as well as beautiful. Wittily described by one devotee as ‘nursery food for billionaires’, its signature dishes – beef carpaccio, green tagliolini ham gratin, and bitter chocolate ice cream washed down by mandatory peach bellinis – are so reliably superb that a token glance at the menu need not impede the power-broking conversation. From media moguls and heads of state to European and Middle Eastern royalty, the regulars here are among the most discerning because they’re the most privileged anywhere in the world. Harry’s Bar never lets them down.
Members only.
See also: Annabel’s, Claridge’s, Scott’s
Liberty
Regent Street, W1B 5AH · 020 3893 3062
gifts
THERE’S NO DEPARTMENT STORE in London quite like Liberty. There never has been, not since its foundation way back in 1875. Somehow, the hundreds of thousands of disparate objects it purveys coalesce to produce a style uniquely its own. If glitz, ostentation, and homogenous pseudo-luxury are your tickets, I’d advise you to look towards the retail giants of Knightsbridge and Oxford Street. They’ll be perfectly calibrated to your needs. On the other hand, if it’s charming idiosyncrasy you’re after – the quirky and offbeat but beautifully and amusingly designed – Liberty is the place for you.
On the basis of architecture alone, there aren’t many stores as distinctive as this one, with its mock-Tudor façade and atrium constructed from the creaking timbers of two superannuated battleships. Liberty customers, be they ever so affluent, are somewhat… artsy. In the first generation, they would have been described as ‘greenery-yallery’, after a lyric from Patience, Gilbert and Sullivan’s satire on the Victorian Aesthetic Movement. Today, we’d call them hipsters. I won’t pretend that the majority of the menswear available is anything other than outré. Cordings, this ain’t. Still, the fragrance, fabric and homeware sections are top-notch, yielding fun combinations of colours, patterns and textures you’re unlikely to encounter anywhere else.
See also: Drake’s, David Mellor, Pentreath & Hall
John Lobb
9 St James’s Street, SW1A 1EF · 020 7930 3664
shoemakers & cobblers
IF ST JAMES’S AS A WHOLE represents Elysium to those who aspire to English style, the lower end of St James’s Street is a veritable Isle of the Blessed: a tiny patch of land in which some of the most gentlemanly institutions in London – Berry Bros & Rudd, Truefitt & Hill, Lock & Co – cluster as thickly as blackberries in September. Nestled in the heart of this superelite terrain is John Lobb: arguably the most prestigious establishment in which one can be shod today. Virtually a lone reed of quality and craftsmanship in a ready-to-wear world, Lobb’s unlikely origins in Cornwall (where founder John Lobb was born) and Australia (where he began to make his name) flowered in the early 1860s when the fledgling firm received a warrant from the future King Edward VII.
Since then, Lobb has made bespoke shoes for emperors, presidents, billionaires, music legends and Hollywood A-Listers. Its basement is crammed from floor to ceiling with clients’ wooden lasts, each one of which is unique. One doesn’t come here for speed – from order to delivery, the first pair of handmade shoes is liable to take six to eight months, and three to four months for each subsequent pair – and one doesn’t come here if one is economising either. Still, the fact remains that, if you seek to claim your rightful place among the aforementioned super-elite, this is a very good place to start.
See also: George Cleverley, Tricker’s
Lock & Co.
6 St James’s Street, SW1A 1EF · 020 7930 8874
hatters
AS CHIC AS A HAMPER from Fortnum & Mason, and just as recognisable, a black-on-white box from Lock & Co is a symbol of the heritage that makes it, the world’s oldest hatter, synonymous with the platonic ideal of English style. Since 1759, its warren-like shop on the sunny side of St James’s Street has been a mecca for the world’s best dressed. Name a snappy gent – the Duke of Windsor or Anthony Eden, Oscar Wilde or Charlie Chaplin – and the chances are he purchased his headgear here. It’s even rumoured that Lewis Carroll was inspired by the mid-19th-century manager of Lock & Co, James Benning, to create the character of the Mad Hatter.
The connection with Alice notwithstanding, I can think of few establishments less subversive than this one. On the contrary: whether it be a refurbished silk topper for Royal Ascot, a tweed cap for the grouse moor or an impeccable Panama for the cricket, a hat from Lock & Co virtually guarantees its wearer will be comme il faut. Indeed, while it took the combined efforts of several elite tailors to evolve the look we today recognise as ‘Savile Row’, it was Lock alone that contributed the bowler hat, more correctly known as ‘the Coke’, to the national wardrobe. Low-key but always correct, a hat from Lock is a hat for life. It’s impossible to buy better.
See also: Bates
LPM
53-54 Brook’s Mews, W1K 4EG · 020 7495 4774
restaurants
LIGHT, BRIGHT and irrepressibly summery, LPM is an outpost of the Mediterranean in the very heart of Mayfair. Tucked away behind Claridge’s, it’s geared towards a clientele of locals, some of whom are so devoted they visit three times a week. As well they might: it’s difficult to think of an establishment more seductive in style and presentation than this one. Indoors as well as out, the ambience is determinedly al fresco. On immaculate white tablecloths, fresh lemons and tomatoes cluster around bottles of olive oil. Elsewhere, glass vases filled with seasonal produce introduce pops of colour into an interior that could have been lifted straight from Cap Ferrat. Indeed, it’s tomatoes that provide the dominant note, from the orange-red awnings to the signature aperitif, the Tomatini.
No prizes for guessing that LPM’s informal décor, warm and apparently sun-drenched in the depths of winter, is merely a reflection of its cuisine. Drawing on the traditions of southern French and northern Italian cooking, fish, seafood, snails and salads feature prominently. There is, as you might imagine, a great deal of garlic. Parties of up to ten are served family-style, with dishes set down for everybody to help themselves. Sharing is encouraged, and even expected. LPM specialises in rosé wines. Its unique and super-chic cocktail menu is inspired by the life of Jean Cocteau.
See also: Bellamy’s, Cecconi’s, Trullo
M. Manze
87 Tower Bridge Road, SE1 4TW · 020 7407 2985
restaurants
RARELY PERFORMED THESE DAYS but a smash-hit in its own, the musical Me and My Girl premiered in the West End in late 1937. Telling the story of a cheerful Cockney, Bill Snibson, who is discovered to be the long-lost Earl of Hareford, it sparked the dance craze known as the Lambeth Walk. Watched or listened to now, it’s a reminder of a time when class was the defining factor in London lives up and down the social scale. If, as Lord Hareford, Bill would have been found at Wiltons, as plain old Mr Snibson, he would surely have lunched at M Manze. Established in 1902, and still in the hands of its founding family, this purveyor of superlative pie and mash remains, as it has always been, a local place for local people.
Beautiful in its simplicity, the bill of fare includes jellied eels, a dish that can rightfully be called the caviar of the East End. As an alternative to gravy, you can order the green parsley sauce known as ‘liquor’; as an alternative to a mug of tea, you can opt for sarsaparilla, a fruit cordial served either hot or cold. Although you can eat in, on a wooden pew at a marble-topped table in a tiled interior virtually untouched since the Edwardian era, you can also take away. Indeed, the reputation of Manze’s pies is such that they’re now available for home delivery anywhere in the mainland UK.
See also: Mustard, Regency Café, Simpson’s Tavern
Medlar
438 King’s Road, SW10 0LJ · 020 7349 1900
restaurants
QUIET BUT IMPECCABLE: that’s Medlar all over. Now in its tenth year of business, this discreet little restaurant at World’s End eschews hype in favour of the occasional rave review and the devotion of monied locals who prize consistency above razzmatazz.
Formerly of the much-mourned Ledbury, manager and co-owner David O’Connor is quite clear about Medlar’s mission: to bring about the perfect alignment of quality food, quality wine and quality service. The menu is Modern European, tilting ever so slightly towards France. Changing with the seasons, it invariably includes a couple of house specialities: duck egg tart with red wine sauce, say, or under blade fillet with Café de Paris snails and béarnaise. The puddings are just as worthy of time and tummy space. Book a table during the summer months and you can choose from the likes of apricot financier with pistachios, or strawberry and prosecco jelly with lemon sorbet. Décor-wise, Medlar takes its cue from the chic interiors of the early Nineties, with a palette of soft greys enlivened with touches of vibrant green. In a sense, this is merely the physical manifestation of its bespoke approach to customer care. The staff are as assiduous or unobtrusive as they feel you and the occasion demand. Taken together, this makes Medlar one of the most sophisticated and, above all, grown-up places to lunch in south-west London.
See also: Elystan Street, Spring, Trullo
David Mellor
4 Sloane Square, SW1W 8EE · 020 7730 4259
gifts
I USED TO FIND the concept of ‘design’ a bit…well, irritating. It’s hard to explain why, other than I felt it to be wreathed in the kind of reverential rhetoric that’s the opposite of the workaday, the relatable and, dare I say it, the comfortably English. Or so I assumed until I discovered David Mellor.
No, I don’t refer to the former Tory minister. I mean the glittering jewel-box of a shop that’s occupied the same premises on the corner of Sloane Square since 1969, and which has flown the flag for the best of British craftsmanship ever since. Favoured by a multi-generational cognoscenti – today’s devotees are the grandchildren of those who first bought in to the Mellor magic, although latterly they’re augmented by new customers from Japan and South Korea – its extensive range of kitchenware and tableware is unified by a quality of understated beauty that, first, begs to be handled and, second, demands to be taken home. It helps that the aesthetic is so thoroughly integrated. From the door to the display cases, Mellor himself was responsible for the look of his flagship store. Scarcely touched for more than a half a century, it’s broken through the sound barrier of fleeting ‘fashion’ to achieve ‘iconic’ status. Whether in steel, glass, pottery or wood, much the same can be said of its timeless and thoroughly seductive merchandise – which, in case you wonder, is surprisingly and pleasingly affordable.
See also: Liberty, Pentreath & Hall
New & Lingwood
53 Jermyn Street, SW1Y 6LX · 020 7493 9621
tailors & outfitters
AS JERMYN STREET outfitters go, New & Lingwood is the wild card in an otherwise well-ordered pack, the wolf in a fold of calm and conservative sheep. What’s so surprising is that, for all its apparent ‘outsider’ status, it is, at heart, as authentically ‘English’ as any of its competitors.
George ‘Beau’ Brummell, whose statue stands right outside New & Lingwood’s door, would doubtless be aghast to see his doctrine of subdued good taste so comprehensively disregarded within. Inasmuch as there is one, the house style is a throwback to the days of the 18th-century macaronis in all their provocative gorgeousness. Then, leap-frogging Victorian sobriety completely, it channels the spirit of the dandies and decadents of the fin-de-siècle: Wilde, Firbank, Swinburne and Saki. Here, one is encouraged to nail one’s colours to the mast. And what colours. Across socks and pocket squares, trousers and raincoats, they run rainbow riot, proving as irresistible to government ministers and army officers as to musicians, actors and artists. I’m told that orange and pink are the bestselling hues, frequently combined in the form of one of New & Lingwood’s silk dressing gowns of surpassing splendour.
Mashing up the traditional and the anarchic, the classic and the outrageously contemporary, this most self-confident of outfitters brings out the inner toff in every Bohemian and the inner punk in every pillar of the Establishment.
See also: Oliver Brown, Cordings, Turnbull & Asser
Pentreath & Hall
17 Rugby Street, WC1N 3QT · 020 7430 2526
gifts
ONCE A GENERATION, a decorator or designer comes along who almost single-handedly redefines the English Look. In the second half of the 20th century, it was John Fowler, then Sir Terence Conran. In the early 21st century, it’s Ben Pentreath. You know his name, of course. Across any number of channels – his seductive Instagram account, his beguiling blog, his luscious coffee-table tomes, and the acres of coverage accorded him by leading interiors magazines – he’s the sun around which so many other creative planets, from illustrators to plaster casters, revolve. One could be forgiven for assuming that his instantly recognisable and much-emulated style has been that little bit over-exposed.
The briefest of visits to his delectable little shop on Rugby Street, at the heart of the most villagey part of Bloomsbury, will disabuse you of your cynicism. Essentially a classicist, with a yen for the simple, robust and timelessly handsome, Ben eschews the pompous, pretentious and over-adorned. Fresh and fun, the items he purveys – brightly coloured and boldly patterned paper weights, candlesticks, cushions, stationery, sundry pieces of furniture and all manner of tableware – owe much to the aesthetic legacies of John Soane, Eric Ravilious and Edward Bawden, yet are, in the final analysis, enchantingly his own. Invest in a piece or several now, and the chances are you’ll have a sought-after collectable on your hands in 30 years’ time.
See also: Drake’s, Liberty, David Mellor
Pickett
Albany, 10-12 Burlington Gardens, W1S 3EY · 020 7493 8939
gifts
I’VE GENUINE AFFECTION for the Eighties, that much-maligned decade that heralded a welcome return to classic British style after the dubious interlude of the Sixties and Seventies. In the slipstream of Chariots of Fire, Brideshead Revisited and The Sloane Ranger Handbook, the eternal verities were back. Founded by Trevor Pickett in 1988, this luxury leather goods brand was born on the crest of that wave. It’s surfed it with elegance ever since. Occupying the sweetest of spots between impeccable craftsmanship and aspirational products, Pickett has an address to match. Its twin stores command an exceptional view straight up Savile Row.
Apparently tiny, they’re actually quite spacious, with basement showrooms reached via vertiginous stairs. The rear windows give on to the fabled Rope Walk of Albany, the most exclusive apartment building in London. I’d stake a sizeable sum on the probability that Albany’s residents are Pickett regulars, faithful to its extensive range of ready-made and bespoke wallets, briefcases, holdalls, gloves, belts and washbags, as well as complete sets of luggage that can be customised to one’s precise specifications. Having been instrumental in introducing pashminas and kilim slippers into pukka British wardrobes, Pickett represents the best of Sloane style: discreet but not dull, timeless but of-the-moment.
See also: George Cleverley, Smythson
The Quality Chop House
88-94 Farringdon Road, EC1R 3EA · 020 7278 1452
restaurants
BRISTLING WITH ARCHITECTS’ practices and design studios, Clerkenwell is the stomping ground of an edgy and profoundly metropolitan crowd. The Quality Chop House, which recently passed its 150th anniversary on listed premises on Farringdon Road, fits right in. Poised somewhere between a pub and a restaurant, it’s determinedly unstuffy in both style and service. With its chequerboard floor and Lincrusta-covered walls, the Victorian décor is belied by mismatched plates and a soundtrack of upbeat Motown classics. Hipster functionalism is the order of the day, and it’s carried through to a menu that, at first glance, appears spare, if not downright stark. It’s only when the food starts arriving that one appreciates that simple (read, seasonal British) ingredients, imaginatively combined and skilfully cooked, can yield results which are nothing short of spectacular. Richness and flavour are the keynotes of the main dishes (Brixham turbot with roasted chicken sauce, Shetland lamb with girolles, anchovies and capers), lightness and delicacy those of the puddings (raspberry and almond tart, Madagascan chocolate ice cream with vanilla custard). All are exceptional.
It would be a mistake to assume that the relative informality of The Quality Chop House comes cheap. It doesn’t. Two courses with a glass of wine or cider are liable to set you back around £60. It is, though, an expense I’d implore you to incur.
See also: The Guinea Grill, Noble Rot, St John
The Restaurant at Sotheby’s
Sotheby’s, 34-35 New Bond Street, W1A 2AA · 020 7293 5077
restaurants
FAR BE IT FROM ME to influence your cultural pursuits as authoritatively as I’m attempting to influence your choice of barbers and tailors. Museums and galleries are beyond my remit. That said, the major auction houses are integral to the idea of good living in London. They function as curated carousels for art objects of the highest calibre, with eye-watering estimates to match. What’s more, everybody is free to drop by to peruse the disparate treasures before they hit the block. Catch them while you can. It may be your only opportunity to see them up close.
There’s an old joke that the experts at Christie’s are gentlemen pretending to be auctioneers, whereas the experts at Sotheby’s are auctioneers pretending to be gentlemen. While that stereotype is now passé, it must be admitted that Sotheby’s displayed considerable acumen when it opened a chic little restaurant adjacent to its main reception area on New Bond Street. Between 10 AM and 4.30 PM, Monday to Friday, it’s a great spot from which to watch the art world high rollers pass by. For a ‘pavement-style’ experience – in other words, to see and be seen yourself – bag one of the tables out front. To preserve a degree of discretion, make for one of the turquoise banquettes at the rear. Light but elegant, the lunch menu changes weekly and with the seasons. While not extensive, the accompanying wine list is invariably excellent.
See also: Cecconi’s, Elystan Street, Lpm
Le Deli Robuchon
82 Piccadilly, W1J 8JA · 020 8076 0564
groceries & provisions
LE DELI ROBUCHON knows its audience. Situated a few doors down from Green Park tube, it is to the office workers of Mayfair what Pret A Manger is to practically everybody else. Conceived and run in the tradition of the multi-Michelin-starred French chef Joël Robuchon, who died in 2018, it’s a popular lunch spot for those coining it in nearby hedge funds. Drop in around noon and you’ll intercept scraps of conversation likely to revolve around one of two main subjects: money (the making of) and physical fitness (the pursuit of). Logically, a corollary of the first is, again, money: the spending of.
With its bottles of Laurent-Perrier, lobster bisque, chichi ice cream cart and sumptuous patisserie, Le Deli Robuchon can help you out with that. Budget twice what you normally would for a filled baguette and you’re about there. Happily, I can report that, after one bite, you’re unlikely to regret the additional outlay. On the fitness front, one’s regime of the moment can be kept on track with a take-out lunch box filled with one protein (sliced chicken, salmon, beef) and two or three sides: tabbouleh, grilled vegetables, lentil salad. Personally, I find the pricing of this mix-and-match system a trifle confusing (substitutions and supplements have their own fee structures), but I suspect that doesn’t faze many of the other regulars.
See also: Emilia’s Delicatessen, Paul Rothe & Son
Paul Rothe & Son
35 Marylebone Lane, W1U 2NN · 020 7935 6783
groceries & provisions
SO YOU THINK you know your condiments? Pay a visit to Paul Rothe & Son and you may be forced to reconsider. Tucked away down Marylebone Lane, it’s crammed with every variety of jam, marmalade, chutney, preserve and curd your heart could desire, as well as quite a few it probably doesn’t. Far from seeming chaotic, the overall effect is of the utmost precision, with labels on jars on shelves all in perfect alignment. This isn’t retail so much as art.
But don’t let the almost obsessive neatness make you twitchy. Paul Rothe & Son might just be the best delicatessen in this part of town. An institution since 1900, it does a roaring trade in local office-workers who know they’d have to go a long way (or at least as far as Mustard on Margaret Street) to find a better breakfast. Come noon, the sandwiches are the thing. There’s scarcely a bread or filling not on offer. Lest the options threaten to overwhelm, the blackboards behind the counter are handily subdivided into sections: Meat, Fish, Cheese and Vegetarian. If by some fluke you can’t see your preferred combo on the list, ask and it shall be made.
Almost preternaturally friendly and unhurried at even the busiest times of day, Paul Rothe & Son is to the London lunch what the Regency Café is to the London breakfast. That’s the highest accolade I can bestow.
See also: Mustard, Regency Café
Simpson’s Tavern
38½ Cornhill, EC3V 9DR · 020 7626 9985
restaurants
IF IT SEEMS REMARKABLE that we’ve come this far without me once applying the word ‘Dickensian’ to any of the establishments in this book, allow me to make up the deficit now. Simpson’s Tavern is a jaw-dropping throwback to the days of Mr Pickwick and Ebenezer Scrooge.
Although London as a whole is an organic entity that grew piecemeal, without the rigorous logic of Manhattan or the theatre of Haussmann’s Paris, it’s only in the City that one can truly access an urban experience that predates town-planning by several centuries. Its knotted streets can confuse even seasoned veterans. Throw in a dense network of interconnected courts and one can wander for hours.
Situated at 38½ Cornhill, Simpson’s Tavern is a superlative chop house and institution. Founded in 1757, this male-dominated enclave is a lunch spot only – but what lunches. Feeding everybody from the bank chairman to the brickie in egalitarian, ‘elbows together’ style, the wooden booths in its austerely handsome grill retain the brass rails upon which, in earlier generations, toppers and bowlers could be safely stowed while eating. The gloriously unreconstructed menu leans heavily on steaks and meat pies, with Yorkshire pudding and devilled kidneys as standard. Even on fish-and-chip Friday, you’ll be offered a sausage with your order.
See also: The Cow, The Guinea Grill, The Quality Chop House
James Smith & Sons
Hazelwood House, 53 New Oxford Street, WC1A 1BL · 020 7836 4731
gifts
BESIDES ‘QUALITY’, ‘CHARACTER’ was the chief criterion I employed when drawing up my list of places for inclusion in this book. What do I mean by that? Nothing more than an identity so distinct that it couldn’t be manufactured. In addition, it should be quintessentially ‘London’: so much so that it couldn’t exist elsewhere in the world, or even elsewhere in Britain. On that basis, James Smith & Sons wins the ‘character’ contest hands down.
Permit me to start from the outside, then work my way in. Occupying the same corner site on the outskirts of Bloomsbury since 1857, Smith & Sons is an extraordinarily rare example of Victorian retail architecture. Over and above immense plate glass windows mounted in wood and polished brass, florid lettering in red, black and gold describes, exhaustively, the wares and repair services procurable within. What are those wares? Why, umbrellas, of course: those essential – because so necessary – adjuncts to every Englishman’s wardrobe. And not just umbrellas, but walking sticks, shooting sticks and parasols too, ranging in price from as little as £20 to close to £3000. Both personal and personable, Smith’s team ministers to new and repeat customers alike with a knowledge and professionalism commensurate with the 19th century trappings of what can only be described as a bona fide London landmark.
See also: Budd, John Lobb, Henry Poole & Co
Tricker’s
67 Jermyn Street, SW1Y 6NY · 020 7930 6395
shoemakers & cobblers
OF THE TRIO OF TOP SHOEMAKERS in London, Tricker’s is the most unassuming. Less awe-inspiring than John Lobb and less dashing than George Cleverley, it’s nevertheless carved out a niche for itself as a purveyor of bespoke, semi-bespoke and ready-to-wear footgear to squires and heritage hipsters alike. Now in its sixth generation of family ownership, Tricker’s, which was established in 1829, has occupied the same premises on Jermyn Street since 1938. Instead of shelving, one wall is lined with tiers of hatches bearing tiny blackboards. Each hatch opens to reveal nine pairs of shoes packed like sardines in a can. This unique storage system proved its mettle in the Blitz, when it protected the merchandise from flying glass.
Although that old adage about ‘no brown in town’ long ceased to have any application to the 21st century wardrobe, Tricker’s remains the go-to store for the kind of stout country shoes the characters of Mitford and Wodehouse would have deemed indispensable. Its signature ‘Bourton’ model is a heavy brogue with a ‘bellows’ tongue to keep the water out, as well as a dainite rubber sole for extra grip and all-round durability. Traditionally the preserve of the landed gentry, Tricker’s, in yet another example of the evergreen appeal and adaptability of ‘classic’ English style, is now frequented by international menswear fanatics as likely to sport tattoos as they are tweeds.
See also: George Cleverley, John Lobb
Turnbull & Asser
71-72 Jermyn Street, SW1Y 6PF · 020 7808 3000
tailors & outfitters
DATING FROM 1903, Turnbull & Asser’s flagship store is a temple of High Edwardiana: burnished brass, mellow woodwork and Art Nouveau details that owe more than a little to the influence of Charles Rennie Mackintosh. This is, unmistakably, the terrain of Kind Hearts and Coronets. But probe a little deeper and you’ll uncover a rich heritage that takes in Hollywood as well as St James’s, rock and pop as well as racing and polo. Come the Swinging Sixties, Turnbull & Asser was at the forefront of the Peacock Revolution, with its bold patterns and prismatic colours proving as appealing to Twiggy and David Hockney as they had to Charlie Chaplin and Winston Churchill. At the same time, there was a transatlantic va-etvient that saw its unrivalled craftsmanship showcased in some of the most stylish movies of the Seventies. Ever wondered about that ‘man in London’ who sends Robert Redford’s Gatsby his shirts in Jack Clayton’s definitive adaptation of 1974? Well, he was at Turnbull & Asser.
Aside from ready-to-wear, the bespoke department, just around the corner on Bury Street, provides a level of quality and service no gentleman, be he actual or aspiring, can afford to be unaware of, even if he can’t yet afford to place an order. To rifle the pages of any one of the sample books – fabrics so soft and supple they wear like a caress – is a tactile experience that quite spoils one for any other shirtmaker.
See also: Budd, New & Lingwood
Wiltons
55 Jermyn Street, SW1Y 6LX · 020 7629 9955
restaurants
WHEN, IN 2009, Tatler celebrated its tercentenary, it assembled no fewer than ten British dukes around one table. Where was that table? Why, at Wiltons, of course: arguably the only establishment in the country in which such an august gathering could seem (almost) unremarkable.
As integral to the collective self-identity of its clientele as White’s and the House of Lords, Wiltons is as old school – by which I mean, public school – as they come. Michael Stokes, the enchantingly warm and personable manager, still recalls the occasion when a trio of distinguished friends arrived and he was obliged to greet each one, quite correctly, as ‘Sir John’. (On the subject of greetings, take note: no matter how far advanced the afternoon, it’s always ‘Good morning’ at Wiltons until you’ve had your lunch.)
Plush, cosy and enveloping as a four-poster bed, the ambience fostered by ankle-deep carpets, elegant artworks, shimmering silver and starched napery is redolent of an unostentatious but extremely luxurious country house. The cooking, which defines the notion of ‘Traditional English’, more than lives up to the décor. Celebrated for its oysters, fish and game in season, Wiltons positively encourages one to linger. It’s one of the very few restaurants of its calibre to eschew the anti-social policy of ‘return times’ on its tables. It’s a wonder its devoted patrons ever go home.
See also: Brown’s Hotel, The Guinea Grill, Rules
Nothing matches. Try another word, or simply go to Wiltons.
