I’m not trying to be provocative just for the Hell of it. Really. But I just can’t help feeling that someone might be pulling my leg with all this recent “the City is cool” stuff. It’s fine for New York’s Financial District to have the odd secret watering-hole. Tokyo: no problems there. But London? (Scoff.)
Four words, people: Cabaret. East London. Proud. Only you see, this isn’t Cabaret in that half-arsed style that we’ve all come to know and tire of. Welcome to Proud Cabaret.
Remember those days when we used to take everything American with a hearty pinch of either salt or irony? But then came Obama. And his hope. And his Nobel Peace Prize. So now, 51st State here we come. And damn if it doesn’t taste good.
Aside from tax inspections, break-ins and impressively convincing transsexuals called Mary, nothing beats a slice of oft-forgotten surprise to brighten one’s day. A dash of mystery to put a spring in the old step. A brush with the unknown to turn that frown upside-down. Something like the RCA Secret…
Dum duh-duh dah-dum…
Woke up this morning, my baby was gone
And she’d taken my money, and run off with my best friend’s son.
The Bathhouse, Tava “333″ O’Halloran’s converted Turkish bathhouse club/restaurant/bar, launches in East London
The best Sunday morning hangover brunches in town.
Gary’s Bar is back. Sort of
London’s top rooftop drinking spots for Summer ’09
Breathable booze with Bompas & Parr’s Alcoholic Architecture
Urban Junkies columnist & all-round oenophile, Tom Harrow (aka The Wine Chap) spreads his grapey love