A time honoured, old faithful London wheeze has always been to Wander Down Olde Soho Towne on a weeknight and get metaphorically battered (...and on this night...literally) with your supercool mates. Theres always a white haawwt no-reservation speakeasy or charcuterie bar just opened, more than likely rocking a postindustrialvintagehipsterchic vibe and the ubiquitous moody lighting.
I love the Venetian bacaro Polpo on Beak St, tucked away in the same rickety building in which Venetian painter Canaletto used to reside. Get in! It ain't no Colony Club but its the next best thing.
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