Euphoriom Nightclub and Bar (Bar, Club)

Best for: piña coladas; late night dancing in West London.

Great: DJs.

There are two things a woman gets increasingly self-conscious about as she gets older: the size of her age and the size of her arse.

Big, bold and bodacious aren’t words that normally spring to mind when considering a very small gathering, bobbing around inside a very large, bare hall with no seating, close to a bar and a DJ stage. The crowd may have been miniscule but the mood was anything but(t). For me, it was also a culturally enriching experience (being the only white person), and the proud crowd ranged in age from 20 to 60. I couldn’t have felt more included, especially considering I’m a fair 30, and prefer a more mature mob nowadays anyway.

All is not lost ladies on the increasing capital gain on your age and arse. Uttered correctly, by Saint Beyonce herself, “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly. I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly. I don’t think you’re ready for this, cos my body’s too bootilicious for you babe.” And at Euphoriom Nightclub in Acton, for once, I didn’t mind owning my lovely lady lump. My days of 11cm heels are O-V-A and no one was worried when I kicked them off and danced barefoot on the black lino covering the dance floor.

As my taste buds imbibed the flavours of piña colada, I wondered why there wasn’t a banana Daiquiri on offer, seeing as it was a Carnival-style Barbados themed party, after all. Thankfully, I didn’t have much time to think about it because Barbados beats started to pull my lady lump into positions never known to me before. Was it the welcoming smiles of the crowd’s party-till-dawn ethos, or was it just the moves and cacophony of voices of people in ‘Glee’ mode that inspired me? Even my “I don’t dance” partner-in-crime joined in.

At Euphoriom, a derriere was not a problem, but an ASSet. “Shake ya arse, watch yourself, shake ya arse, show me what you’re working with”; these words of wisdom resonated well within me, and why not? Working in conjunction with the Bajan Revellers, they’re all about curves, colour, glitz and glam, their main purpose in life: Carnival! The spirit was everywhere, even over at the bar where we were coerced into a ‘Guess the shot’ game. We were getting lost in the spirits of green (Midori and Limoncello) and pinks (Archers and Cherry Liqueur). Three at a time was the way to do it, the way of a delirious Merry-Go-Round.

Basic drinks like vodka & lemonade were served in plastic cups. Not a bad idea considering Euphoriom is a late night dancing club (accidents will happen). With no options for seating, not even bar stools, there is no choice but(t) to dance. Although this nightclub reminded me of an old school hall with its primitive DJ stage and lack of decor, looking up I was surprised to find stylish web-like sails adorning the ceiling.

“My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, damn right it’s better than yours, damn right its better than yours, I can teach you, but I’d have to charge.” If anyone could, it would have been the impressive ‘Multi-Man’ barman; Acton’s new vigilant anti-hero. While manning doors, and making cocktails, he was even able to pull off some Wayne Enterprise charm as well as manage staff.

The Carnival spirit did not lull but finally, at a cool 3am, I was happy to be 30, and have a trunk full of booty. Before this, I hadn’t been “ready for my jelly.” Euphoriom had changed my perception of my butt. Thanks Euphoriom!
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