Tuesday, 14 May 2013
The Groucho Club
Of course the Groucho has been the haunt of many a Soho celebrity; Burchill, Bernard, Blur (well Alex James) Not me of course, I go there as a lookiloo, to soak up the heritage. It has that sort of plush but rancid quality. The cool people may have moved on, but it still makes me feel decently out of place. Last night, far from bohemia, it was largely populated of middle aged men (who admittedly try to look a bit bohemian) who take their laptops with them to the toilet; men and women in media who when seated, tend to tilt their heads gently to one side feigning interest, and look a bit like Michael Palin. Also periodically stumbling across the veldt you are sure to spot a residue of YBA, squeezed in to skinny jackets looking as if they might never leave, or have never left. But thankfully there's always a sexy Bohemian to deliver decent drinks at at the Groucho, that's one good reason to go there, that and to pretend you are actually someone who does something in media, or did.