When someone says ‘Let’s go for a drink at my club’, what do you imagine? A grand St James’s establishment like Boodle’s or White’s, or perhaps a media hangout such as the Groucho or Soho House? What you probably don’t think of is an unmarked door and a flight of rickety stairs. Yet through unpromising-looking doorways in and around Soho are little clubs where you can take a break from the 21st century. Places such as the Phoenix beneath the Phoenix theatre on Charing Cross Road, Gerry’s on Dean Street and the Academy on Lexington Street are relics of a time (Gerry’s has been going since 1955) when pubs had to close after lunch and not open again until the evening. People needed somewhere to drink in the afternoon and after 11 p.m. last orders. These clubs met the demand.
They are subtly different from places like the Groucho, where the successful and the ambitious congregate to sell things to each other.
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