The most-loved bars and pubs in London

The Connaught, that most discreetly low-key of London’s mega-expensive hotels, has not one but two great bars. The Coburg, at the front, is a bit like a gentlemen’s club in feel. The Connaught, designed by the renowned David Collins, is all about style and glamour – mirrors, low lighting, silver leaf, tasteful palette, lots of plush seating for intimate conversation. It’s obviously popular with hotel residents too, so don’t come here looking for local colour. But even if you can only stretch to a single drink, it’s worth it: count out every last penny and treat yourself. The cocktail menu is stuffed with peerless examples of all the originals, but for the true Connaught experience the only way to travel is on the martini trolley – order one and it will be wheeled up beside you, with the drink mixed on top.

If Rick James and Jay Gatsby got together to throw a bash, I reckon it would look like Fitz’s Bar. Jazz Age plumage fluffs up from behind chairs while a giant glitter ball hangs from above; the back bar’s arches hint at art deco elegance while bright modern art punctuates the walls; and music drifts from up-tempo funk to mellow jazz. Fitz’s sits inside the Kimpton Fitzroy London, just on the corner of Russell Square. This hotel comes from a UK group with prestige, and you sense it from the marble-heavy lobby leading into this disco decadence. Staff in floral print were accommodating from the get-go, showing off their new home as we entered and offering suggestions on where to take our night when we came to settle up. They promptly poured water and served Twiglets on the side, a fittingly retro touch. Snacks from the menu are well worth your attention, too – from oozing bone-marrow croquettes dressed with capers to salty hasselback potatoes topped with sour cream and caviar. Gatsby would approve. The cocktail menu is filled with illustrations and word clouds to help you figure out flavours. A fizz-heavy Spy Princess (£17) was served in a coupe with a splay of pretty petals on its frothy top. Veer from champagne cocktails and you get a more affordable hotel bar experience – £14 will get you a quirky and sublime cucumber-flavoured daiquiri or a Vesca Negroni, the classic drink lifted with coconut and rosehip. The team hails from London bars Milk & Honey and Callooh Callay – and

After finding the DSC (not easy for first-timers), descend the steep stairs and watch your head so you don’t bump it on the incredibly low ceilings. The effort is worth it: DSC may look like just another wood-heavy, dimly atmospheric London ‘speakeasy’, but in quality it’s made-to-measure rather than prêt-à-porter. What marks it out is profound and polished skill behind the bar: we’ve watched a single bartender manage three large orders at once, doing everything in the right order and not wasting a second. The changing cocktail list can sound wacky (Captain Cobbler is dark rum, amontillado sherry, kumquat, ginger and honey marmalade, pink grapefruit and IPA top), but in our experience here wacky always equals wonderful. Ordering off-list is always a safe bet. Gents in suits love it. So do those wearing denim, ink and facial hair. One size definitely fits all here.

Brewed up by the people behind the Discount Suit Company, the newly made-over Sun Tavern (a pub since 1851) focuses on nearly 40 brands of Irish spirits: whiskey and the (formerly illegal) home-distilled potion called poitín (pronounced poe-CHEEN). Whiskeys include the poignantly named Writers Tears, and the selection of poitín – some scarily strong – is the UK’s largest. There is also a short cocktail list (£7.50-£8) and good beers, both bottled and on tap (£4.20-£5). The latter will soon be joined by products from the Sun’s own brewery. The owners have followed the now-standard bare-brick formula, but have handled it beautifully, with walls comprising a palimpsest of plaster old and new, plus ancient block-print wallpaper. If you can’t bag a red-leather banquette, the bar stools are comfortable. The Sun is a smallish pub with DJs on Wednesday to Saturday evenings, and on other nights you can spin your own vinyl on the turntables. There is a limited food offering: charcuterie, cheese and the like. They even make a good espresso. On a bright Saturday afternoon people trickle in, drinking beer and cocktails. In the evenings, it gets busy. Not surprising: there’s a lot to love here. Review by Richard Ehrlich

Bored of arbitrarily themed Prohibition bars? Well, the King’s Cross branch of Dishoom’s Permit Room (the second of its kind) has its own thing going on, taking inspiration from Bombay’s own Prohibition era when the public needed a licence to drink alcohol based on ‘medical’ grounds. It suits us ‘what’s your excuse?’ Londoners to a tee. The room is moodily lit but never flirts with speakeasy clichés. It’s a big basement filled with chatter, a waft of incense and the comings and goings of chipper bar staff with trays held high. You’ll have to queue at the door at peak times, just like punters do for a curry in the restaurant. But once you’re in, browse a list of juleps in traditional copper cups, martinis twisted with Indian aromatics, and shaken sours with more than a whiff of the East. Gin is the maharaja on the menu, in a proper nod to colonial times. Permission to come again, please?

A bit of a hidden treasure, this 140-year old venue has real retro charm. Typically it's only open to members – joining costs £20 a year, and you'll somehow need to find two current members to endorse you. But you can also catch locally-organised gigs in the main hall - the Peckham Chamber Orchestra often perform there. It's also available to hire for non-members. (Photos courtesy EJ Richards of FilmFixer.)

With a twinkly, cosy, vine-clad terrace beckoning us into The Bloomsbury Club bar from the street, I was taken aback by the frosty manager who said there’d be no space – outside or in – for me and my friend for at least two hours. Perhaps we weren’t as preened as the average punter. But on a detour (okay, snoop) around the rest of the hotel we found the indoor section of the bar, where seats were offered up by more friendly waistcoated staff. I’m so glad we persevered. Wood-panelled and dressed to the nines, The Bloomsbury Club oozes plush appeal: English gent’s club meets library, the cabinets filled with booze rather than books. The analogy is apt, as the bar takes its inspiration from the group of writers and artists who hung out together in this area in the early twentieth century. There’s a drink named after each of the Bloomsbury Set’s ten core members, so you can sip on a Virginia Woolf or a Duncan Grant (a gorgeous whisky drink with a maraschino sweetness). The room is decked out with chesterfield armchairs, punctuated by modern, teal velvet stools. A semicircle of high-backed chairs rings the bar, a prime spot where I was able to soak up the expert mixology while peering at a jazz duo twanging at the foot of the room. So plan ahead if you want a seat in one of the leaf-covered alcoves on that alluring terrace. But don’t be disheartened if it’s full – the indoor bar is the real deal.

This bar at the five-star Rosewood London hotel is named after the London-born artist and caricaturist Gerald Scarfe (former illustrator for The Sunday Times and New Yorker). His work can be seen adorning the marble walls here, providing a great backdrop to a swanky-looking spot. There's live music here seven nights a week – usually jazz, soul and blues. Keep an eye out for cabaret nights and special seasonal events, too. And to drink? Cocktails such as a Thyme Out (Bombay Sapphire, Yellow Chartreuse, thyme, orange bitters and lemon juice) and a Three Blind Mice (Jack Daniel's Single Barrel, Cocchi Americano, Cynar and artichoke oil) alongside Champagne, wine and craft beer by the bottle and on draught.  

From the couple who brought us cult faves Nightjar and Oriole comes Swift, swooping into the former site of the celebrated, groundbreaking Lab Bar. Frankly, if they’d named it Tit I’d have still been excited, since here they’ve also teamed up with folks who’ve worked across Milk & Honey and Callooh Callay, to overwhelming success. Swift is split in two: a buzzy, casual-yet-sparkling bar on the ground level and a dark lounge below. Upstairs, the look is faintly Italian, mirrored in a menu of affordable aperitivos. This includes an unmissable sgroppino – a thick and frothy prosecco-based drink with lemony sorbet floating on top. For snacks, nearby drinkers ordered oysters, but I was happily ensconsed in a Guinness welsh rarebit, heavy with pungent cheese and onion. Pongy titbits notwithstanding, Swift makes a great date spot. If it’s going well, take it downstairs. The basement is lit for romantic trysts, the showy side of Oriole and Nightjar eschewed in favour of pared-back sophistication. Staff are attentive, guiding you through an original menu edging towards nightcaps. I tried a powerful Amber Cane, a reinvented manhattan using rum in place of whisky. So taking over the spot where London’s cocktail-making reputation was cemented doesn’t seem too bold. Doing it in such a stripped-back way was the ballsy move, but, boy has it paid off. Time for a Swift one.

The less intrepid Londoner may be put off by the street view of Satan’s Whiskers: it looks every bit a down-and-out dive bar. Inside though, it breaks the east London bar mould, with hip hop on the stereo, a smartly modish setting, vintage French posters on the wall and some of the best cocktails to be found in Bethnal Green’s burgeoning booze scene. But luckily, it’s more of a laid-back neighbourhood hangout than an out-of-place, high-end cocktail bar. Think not so much stuffy, more stuffed animals – there’s plenty of taxidermy pals lounging around, but it never borders on the tacky. The drinks list changes daily, which attracts a keen crowd of booze enthusiasts as well as Tinder’s finest out to impress. On our latest trip we sat at the bar, a prime position to catch the attention of staff in shirts and braces, who gladly ran us through their favourites on the menu. You’re in for a hell of a night at Satan’s Whiskers.

The Connaught, that most discreetly low-key of London’s mega-expensive hotels, has not one but two great bars. The Coburg, at the front, is a bit like a gentlemen’s club in feel. The Connaught, designed by the renowned David Collins, is all about style and glamour – mirrors, low lighting, silver leaf, tasteful palette, lots of plush seating for intimate conversation. It’s obviously popular with hotel residents too, so don’t come here looking for local colour. But even if you can only stretch to a single drink, it’s worth it: count out every last penny and treat yourself. The cocktail menu is stuffed with peerless examples of all the originals, but for the true Connaught experience the only way to travel is on the martini trolley – order one and it will be wheeled up beside you, with the drink mixed on top.

If Rick James and Jay Gatsby got together to throw a bash, I reckon it would look like Fitz’s Bar. Jazz Age plumage fluffs up from behind chairs while a giant glitter ball hangs from above; the back bar’s arches hint at art deco elegance while bright modern art punctuates the walls; and music drifts from up-tempo funk to mellow jazz. Fitz’s sits inside the Kimpton Fitzroy London, just on the corner of Russell Square. This hotel comes from a UK group with prestige, and you sense it from the marble-heavy lobby leading into this disco decadence. Staff in floral print were accommodating from the get-go, showing off their new home as we entered and offering suggestions on where to take our night when we came to settle up. They promptly poured water and served Twiglets on the side, a fittingly retro touch. Snacks from the menu are well worth your attention, too – from oozing bone-marrow croquettes dressed with capers to salty hasselback potatoes topped with sour cream and caviar. Gatsby would approve. The cocktail menu is filled with illustrations and word clouds to help you figure out flavours. A fizz-heavy Spy Princess (£17) was served in a coupe with a splay of pretty petals on its frothy top. Veer from champagne cocktails and you get a more affordable hotel bar experience – £14 will get you a quirky and sublime cucumber-flavoured daiquiri or a Vesca Negroni, the classic drink lifted with coconut and rosehip. The team hails from London bars Milk & Honey and Callooh Callay – and

After finding the DSC (not easy for first-timers), descend the steep stairs and watch your head so you don’t bump it on the incredibly low ceilings. The effort is worth it: DSC may look like just another wood-heavy, dimly atmospheric London ‘speakeasy’, but in quality it’s made-to-measure rather than prêt-à-porter. What marks it out is profound and polished skill behind the bar: we’ve watched a single bartender manage three large orders at once, doing everything in the right order and not wasting a second. The changing cocktail list can sound wacky (Captain Cobbler is dark rum, amontillado sherry, kumquat, ginger and honey marmalade, pink grapefruit and IPA top), but in our experience here wacky always equals wonderful. Ordering off-list is always a safe bet. Gents in suits love it. So do those wearing denim, ink and facial hair. One size definitely fits all here.

Brewed up by the people behind the Discount Suit Company, the newly made-over Sun Tavern (a pub since 1851) focuses on nearly 40 brands of Irish spirits: whiskey and the (formerly illegal) home-distilled potion called poitín (pronounced poe-CHEEN). Whiskeys include the poignantly named Writers Tears, and the selection of poitín – some scarily strong – is the UK’s largest. There is also a short cocktail list (£7.50-£8) and good beers, both bottled and on tap (£4.20-£5). The latter will soon be joined by products from the Sun’s own brewery. The owners have followed the now-standard bare-brick formula, but have handled it beautifully, with walls comprising a palimpsest of plaster old and new, plus ancient block-print wallpaper. If you can’t bag a red-leather banquette, the bar stools are comfortable. The Sun is a smallish pub with DJs on Wednesday to Saturday evenings, and on other nights you can spin your own vinyl on the turntables. There is a limited food offering: charcuterie, cheese and the like. They even make a good espresso. On a bright Saturday afternoon people trickle in, drinking beer and cocktails. In the evenings, it gets busy. Not surprising: there’s a lot to love here. Review by Richard Ehrlich

Bored of arbitrarily themed Prohibition bars? Well, the King’s Cross branch of Dishoom’s Permit Room (the second of its kind) has its own thing going on, taking inspiration from Bombay’s own Prohibition era when the public needed a licence to drink alcohol based on ‘medical’ grounds. It suits us ‘what’s your excuse?’ Londoners to a tee. The room is moodily lit but never flirts with speakeasy clichés. It’s a big basement filled with chatter, a waft of incense and the comings and goings of chipper bar staff with trays held high. You’ll have to queue at the door at peak times, just like punters do for a curry in the restaurant. But once you’re in, browse a list of juleps in traditional copper cups, martinis twisted with Indian aromatics, and shaken sours with more than a whiff of the East. Gin is the maharaja on the menu, in a proper nod to colonial times. Permission to come again, please?

A bit of a hidden treasure, this 140-year old venue has real retro charm. Typically it's only open to members – joining costs £20 a year, and you'll somehow need to find two current members to endorse you. But you can also catch locally-organised gigs in the main hall - the Peckham Chamber Orchestra often perform there. It's also available to hire for non-members. (Photos courtesy EJ Richards of FilmFixer.)

With a twinkly, cosy, vine-clad terrace beckoning us into The Bloomsbury Club bar from the street, I was taken aback by the frosty manager who said there’d be no space – outside or in – for me and my friend for at least two hours. Perhaps we weren’t as preened as the average punter. But on a detour (okay, snoop) around the rest of the hotel we found the indoor section of the bar, where seats were offered up by more friendly waistcoated staff. I’m so glad we persevered. Wood-panelled and dressed to the nines, The Bloomsbury Club oozes plush appeal: English gent’s club meets library, the cabinets filled with booze rather than books. The analogy is apt, as the bar takes its inspiration from the group of writers and artists who hung out together in this area in the early twentieth century. There’s a drink named after each of the Bloomsbury Set’s ten core members, so you can sip on a Virginia Woolf or a Duncan Grant (a gorgeous whisky drink with a maraschino sweetness). The room is decked out with chesterfield armchairs, punctuated by modern, teal velvet stools. A semicircle of high-backed chairs rings the bar, a prime spot where I was able to soak up the expert mixology while peering at a jazz duo twanging at the foot of the room. So plan ahead if you want a seat in one of the leaf-covered alcoves on that alluring terrace. But don’t be disheartened if it’s full – the indoor bar is the real deal.

This bar at the five-star Rosewood London hotel is named after the London-born artist and caricaturist Gerald Scarfe (former illustrator for The Sunday Times and New Yorker). His work can be seen adorning the marble walls here, providing a great backdrop to a swanky-looking spot. There's live music here seven nights a week – usually jazz, soul and blues. Keep an eye out for cabaret nights and special seasonal events, too. And to drink? Cocktails such as a Thyme Out (Bombay Sapphire, Yellow Chartreuse, thyme, orange bitters and lemon juice) and a Three Blind Mice (Jack Daniel's Single Barrel, Cocchi Americano, Cynar and artichoke oil) alongside Champagne, wine and craft beer by the bottle and on draught.  

From the couple who brought us cult faves Nightjar and Oriole comes Swift, swooping into the former site of the celebrated, groundbreaking Lab Bar. Frankly, if they’d named it Tit I’d have still been excited, since here they’ve also teamed up with folks who’ve worked across Milk & Honey and Callooh Callay, to overwhelming success. Swift is split in two: a buzzy, casual-yet-sparkling bar on the ground level and a dark lounge below. Upstairs, the look is faintly Italian, mirrored in a menu of affordable aperitivos. This includes an unmissable sgroppino – a thick and frothy prosecco-based drink with lemony sorbet floating on top. For snacks, nearby drinkers ordered oysters, but I was happily ensconsed in a Guinness welsh rarebit, heavy with pungent cheese and onion. Pongy titbits notwithstanding, Swift makes a great date spot. If it’s going well, take it downstairs. The basement is lit for romantic trysts, the showy side of Oriole and Nightjar eschewed in favour of pared-back sophistication. Staff are attentive, guiding you through an original menu edging towards nightcaps. I tried a powerful Amber Cane, a reinvented manhattan using rum in place of whisky. So taking over the spot where London’s cocktail-making reputation was cemented doesn’t seem too bold. Doing it in such a stripped-back way was the ballsy move, but, boy has it paid off. Time for a Swift one.

Experimental Cocktail Club isn’t the kind of place you’d expect to find in Chinatown. In fact, it’s not the kind of place you can expect to find very easily at all: don’t be surprised if you walk past the bar’s unassuming battered door several times before realising it leads to this buzzing three-floor joint filled with trendy groups and dating couples absorbed in lively chatter. Many of them will have reserved – it's a good idea if you don't want to be left disappointed and standing on Gerrard Street. The drinks aren’t so experimental that they come in test tubes, but they’re consistently outstanding, making choosing what to order an almost impossible task. Throw in a gently lit backdrop of minimalist brick walls, mirrored walls and cut-glass tumblers and you're left with an opulent and cosy bar which, once found, you won't want to leave.

The Connaught, that most discreetly low-key of London’s mega-expensive hotels, has not one but two great bars. The Coburg, at the front, is a bit like a gentlemen’s club in feel. The Connaught, designed by the renowned David Collins, is all about style and glamour – mirrors, low lighting, silver leaf, tasteful palette, lots of plush seating for intimate conversation. It’s obviously popular with hotel residents too, so don’t come here looking for local colour. But even if you can only stretch to a single drink, it’s worth it: count out every last penny and treat yourself. The cocktail menu is stuffed with peerless examples of all the originals, but for the true Connaught experience the only way to travel is on the martini trolley – order one and it will be wheeled up beside you, with the drink mixed on top.

If Rick James and Jay Gatsby got together to throw a bash, I reckon it would look like Fitz’s Bar. Jazz Age plumage fluffs up from behind chairs while a giant glitter ball hangs from above; the back bar’s arches hint at art deco elegance while bright modern art punctuates the walls; and music drifts from up-tempo funk to mellow jazz. Fitz’s sits inside the Kimpton Fitzroy London, just on the corner of Russell Square. This hotel comes from a UK group with prestige, and you sense it from the marble-heavy lobby leading into this disco decadence. Staff in floral print were accommodating from the get-go, showing off their new home as we entered and offering suggestions on where to take our night when we came to settle up. They promptly poured water and served Twiglets on the side, a fittingly retro touch. Snacks from the menu are well worth your attention, too – from oozing bone-marrow croquettes dressed with capers to salty hasselback potatoes topped with sour cream and caviar. Gatsby would approve. The cocktail menu is filled with illustrations and word clouds to help you figure out flavours. A fizz-heavy Spy Princess (£17) was served in a coupe with a splay of pretty petals on its frothy top. Veer from champagne cocktails and you get a more affordable hotel bar experience – £14 will get you a quirky and sublime cucumber-flavoured daiquiri or a Vesca Negroni, the classic drink lifted with coconut and rosehip. The team hails from London bars Milk & Honey and Callooh Callay – and

After finding the DSC (not easy for first-timers), descend the steep stairs and watch your head so you don’t bump it on the incredibly low ceilings. The effort is worth it: DSC may look like just another wood-heavy, dimly atmospheric London ‘speakeasy’, but in quality it’s made-to-measure rather than prêt-à-porter. What marks it out is profound and polished skill behind the bar: we’ve watched a single bartender manage three large orders at once, doing everything in the right order and not wasting a second. The changing cocktail list can sound wacky (Captain Cobbler is dark rum, amontillado sherry, kumquat, ginger and honey marmalade, pink grapefruit and IPA top), but in our experience here wacky always equals wonderful. Ordering off-list is always a safe bet. Gents in suits love it. So do those wearing denim, ink and facial hair. One size definitely fits all here.

Brewed up by the people behind the Discount Suit Company, the newly made-over Sun Tavern (a pub since 1851) focuses on nearly 40 brands of Irish spirits: whiskey and the (formerly illegal) home-distilled potion called poitín (pronounced poe-CHEEN). Whiskeys include the poignantly named Writers Tears, and the selection of poitín – some scarily strong – is the UK’s largest. There is also a short cocktail list (£7.50-£8) and good beers, both bottled and on tap (£4.20-£5). The latter will soon be joined by products from the Sun’s own brewery. The owners have followed the now-standard bare-brick formula, but have handled it beautifully, with walls comprising a palimpsest of plaster old and new, plus ancient block-print wallpaper. If you can’t bag a red-leather banquette, the bar stools are comfortable. The Sun is a smallish pub with DJs on Wednesday to Saturday evenings, and on other nights you can spin your own vinyl on the turntables. There is a limited food offering: charcuterie, cheese and the like. They even make a good espresso. On a bright Saturday afternoon people trickle in, drinking beer and cocktails. In the evenings, it gets busy. Not surprising: there’s a lot to love here. Review by Richard Ehrlich

Bored of arbitrarily themed Prohibition bars? Well, the King’s Cross branch of Dishoom’s Permit Room (the second of its kind) has its own thing going on, taking inspiration from Bombay’s own Prohibition era when the public needed a licence to drink alcohol based on ‘medical’ grounds. It suits us ‘what’s your excuse?’ Londoners to a tee. The room is moodily lit but never flirts with speakeasy clichés. It’s a big basement filled with chatter, a waft of incense and the comings and goings of chipper bar staff with trays held high. You’ll have to queue at the door at peak times, just like punters do for a curry in the restaurant. But once you’re in, browse a list of juleps in traditional copper cups, martinis twisted with Indian aromatics, and shaken sours with more than a whiff of the East. Gin is the maharaja on the menu, in a proper nod to colonial times. Permission to come again, please?

A bit of a hidden treasure, this 140-year old venue has real retro charm. Typically it's only open to members – joining costs £20 a year, and you'll somehow need to find two current members to endorse you. But you can also catch locally-organised gigs in the main hall - the Peckham Chamber Orchestra often perform there. It's also available to hire for non-members. (Photos courtesy EJ Richards of FilmFixer.)

With a twinkly, cosy, vine-clad terrace beckoning us into The Bloomsbury Club bar from the street, I was taken aback by the frosty manager who said there’d be no space – outside or in – for me and my friend for at least two hours. Perhaps we weren’t as preened as the average punter. But on a detour (okay, snoop) around the rest of the hotel we found the indoor section of the bar, where seats were offered up by more friendly waistcoated staff. I’m so glad we persevered. Wood-panelled and dressed to the nines, The Bloomsbury Club oozes plush appeal: English gent’s club meets library, the cabinets filled with booze rather than books. The analogy is apt, as the bar takes its inspiration from the group of writers and artists who hung out together in this area in the early twentieth century. There’s a drink named after each of the Bloomsbury Set’s ten core members, so you can sip on a Virginia Woolf or a Duncan Grant (a gorgeous whisky drink with a maraschino sweetness). The room is decked out with chesterfield armchairs, punctuated by modern, teal velvet stools. A semicircle of high-backed chairs rings the bar, a prime spot where I was able to soak up the expert mixology while peering at a jazz duo twanging at the foot of the room. So plan ahead if you want a seat in one of the leaf-covered alcoves on that alluring terrace. But don’t be disheartened if it’s full – the indoor bar is the real deal.

This bar at the five-star Rosewood London hotel is named after the London-born artist and caricaturist Gerald Scarfe (former illustrator for The Sunday Times and New Yorker). His work can be seen adorning the marble walls here, providing a great backdrop to a swanky-looking spot. There's live music here seven nights a week – usually jazz, soul and blues. Keep an eye out for cabaret nights and special seasonal events, too. And to drink? Cocktails such as a Thyme Out (Bombay Sapphire, Yellow Chartreuse, thyme, orange bitters and lemon juice) and a Three Blind Mice (Jack Daniel's Single Barrel, Cocchi Americano, Cynar and artichoke oil) alongside Champagne, wine and craft beer by the bottle and on draught.  

From the couple who brought us cult faves Nightjar and Oriole comes Swift, swooping into the former site of the celebrated, groundbreaking Lab Bar. Frankly, if they’d named it Tit I’d have still been excited, since here they’ve also teamed up with folks who’ve worked across Milk & Honey and Callooh Callay, to overwhelming success. Swift is split in two: a buzzy, casual-yet-sparkling bar on the ground level and a dark lounge below. Upstairs, the look is faintly Italian, mirrored in a menu of affordable aperitivos. This includes an unmissable sgroppino – a thick and frothy prosecco-based drink with lemony sorbet floating on top. For snacks, nearby drinkers ordered oysters, but I was happily ensconsed in a Guinness welsh rarebit, heavy with pungent cheese and onion. Pongy titbits notwithstanding, Swift makes a great date spot. If it’s going well, take it downstairs. The basement is lit for romantic trysts, the showy side of Oriole and Nightjar eschewed in favour of pared-back sophistication. Staff are attentive, guiding you through an original menu edging towards nightcaps. I tried a powerful Amber Cane, a reinvented manhattan using rum in place of whisky. So taking over the spot where London’s cocktail-making reputation was cemented doesn’t seem too bold. Doing it in such a stripped-back way was the ballsy move, but, boy has it paid off. Time for a Swift one.

Experimental Cocktail Club isn’t the kind of place you’d expect to find in Chinatown. In fact, it’s not the kind of place you can expect to find very easily at all: don’t be surprised if you walk past the bar’s unassuming battered door several times before realising it leads to this buzzing three-floor joint filled with trendy groups and dating couples absorbed in lively chatter. Many of them will have reserved – it's a good idea if you don't want to be left disappointed and standing on Gerrard Street. The drinks aren’t so experimental that they come in test tubes, but they’re consistently outstanding, making choosing what to order an almost impossible task. Throw in a gently lit backdrop of minimalist brick walls, mirrored walls and cut-glass tumblers and you're left with an opulent and cosy bar which, once found, you won't want to leave.