It is inevitable that many of those who go drinking in these central London clubs will be at the richer end of society. Hence the tabloid press is a sort of club in itself - for a membership fee of 40 pence a day, we can pop in and see what everybody was up to last night. You'd think Tom Parker Bowles was our next- door-neighbour, or first cousin, so keen are we to know exactly what his mum's boyfriend said when he heard he'd been up to no good. We create celebrities out of those who merely "associate" with the famous, just for the sake of manufacturing more gossip. Soap-opera plots and the movements of celebrities have become our virtual community. Ironically, our increasing desire to read gossip stories is fuelled by the same motive. If your whole social circle belongs to a particular club, then it becomes a place you can just drop in to and see familiar faces. If you go alone you're more likely to come across as a miserable alcoholic than a local hero.Ī club, then, is an obvious solution.
Nobody knows your name at the local pub the barman is a different New Zealander every week. One hears sometimes of small villages in the Cotswolds where these places still exist.
A place "where everybody knows your name", where they all shout "Norm" as you take your usual seat (unless your name is not Norm, in which case please modify accordingly). What is our national love of soap opera, if not the attraction of an old-fashioned world where everyone knows everyone else's business? We'd love to have a local like the Queen Vic or the Rover's Return, where we can just walk in and recognise everybody. To be fair, we all dream of social membership - even if it's not the kind that comes with a laminated card. Our concept is extremely simple - it's only a late- night DJ bar, but because of the locations of some of the K-Bars they attract some high-profile people." Where do you go after that? As people get older they don't want to go to a big nightclub, but they still want to drink a bit, dance a bit, and have conversations. As Piers Adam says: "There is a gap in the market created by the fact that most drinking in London ends at 11pm.
#KABARET BARMAN FULL#
There is no chance of snoozing in a big leather armchair while the butler serves tea these younger places are crammed full of people, the dance floor is busy, the music is loud, and the bar has a big queue. "ĭo not imagine, however, that these new members' clubs are laid out on the old model of Bertie Wooster's Drones club. You're either a member of every club in London, or none of them. As one hard-core socialite explains: "They're not terribly imaginative in who they contact. China White and the bars at Titanic and Bambou, for example - all of which opened in the last year - aim for a similar client list to the K500.
A number of members- only clubs have opened up in London recently, youthful competition for old folks' homes like The Garrick and The Groucho. Membership as a concept is very much back in vogue. Piers's places tend to be good because they're relaxed and he has a big old address book." The portrait painter Jonathan Yeo, a highly desirable quest in these circles, has said simply that: "It makes sense to have a network of like-minded people, it increases the chance of meeting people you'll get on with. Tara Palmer-Tomkinson writes of little else and has described it as "the hottest hang-out in London these days".
#KABARET BARMAN PROFESSIONAL#
The usual professional socialites are all seen there, along with divergent strands of London society, including celebrities, Sloanes and aristocrats. Tom Parker Bowles had his birthday party at the K-Bar in Chelsea, Laura Parker Bowles had hers at its sister club, Kabaret, and Prince William was reported to have hung out in the Soho branch until 1.30 in the morning. In the last couple of weeks we've been in there practically every day, as we pursue the Parker Bowles children - and, by extension, Prince William - on their endlessly reported nights out. But all of us who read newspapers and follow the gossip stories have been virtual tourists at the K-Bar for several months. Not literally, perhaps: if you don't have that little burgundy membership card then you won't get in, and it's back to the Dog & Duck for you.
For an exclusive members' club, the K-Bar has welcomed an awful lot of visitors lately.
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