The Lucky Pig Cocktail Bar (Bar)

Best for: drinking nights out without any particular musical expectation.

Great: Prosecco-based cocktails; the best in London!

Bob your hair and wear your drop waist dress, Molly! Tonight we are going out. I am thirsty – you know for what – and I know a little place, near Regent’s Park, where to find happy crowds. They call it The Lucky Pig; strange name but quite interesting.

Don’t forget to wear those lovely high-heeled bi-coloured shoes. We must be trendy and beautiful: Al, Johnny and Miles arrived from Chicago yesterday night. I want to wear a perfect red lipstick, and beautiful pearls around my head and neck. I want to impress them; they know how to treat a girl.

The only problem with Al is that he’s used to driving that horrible Ford T Highboy Coupe. Tonight we’ll go in my Franklin, and James will drive.

At the entrance we give our names to the porters, who won’t let us in otherwise. They are strict on reservations here: a hip place for the chosen few.

We descend a narrow stairway - it’s discreet and kind of mysterious - and reach a door. A lovely lady takes our fur coats and feather boas.

Aaaaww, how exquisite. Inside, it’s quite small, but still has character. I was told this before we arrived. It’s basically two rooms with hidden sofas and armchairs, positioned all around the corners.

The colours on the walls are dark red, dark blue, dark green and they shout out loud a thousand splendid stories. This place makes me feel special; various tales have unfolded here, I am sure.

The furnishings are mismatched, “lived in” but absolutely elegant. Everywhere there are brilliant liberty mirrors and lovely upside-down umbrellas as chandeliers. I peer at myself in one of the mirrors: my dark eye shadow is picture-perfect here.

It is quite dark; like observing everything through a brown smoked lens. I guess that “mystery” is the password. Not everyone out there needs to know what is going on in here.

The back bar is immense! The right place in these severe but roaring times. I love all these jugs, carafes, and bitters in exquisite bottles.

There aren’t too many people, yet the music is already playing and tonight looks like dance night.

I’m thirsty, Molly. Let’s order Champagne. A lovely waitress overhears me: “No Madame, you simply must try our cocktails!!”

I want to try everything. Out there, in London town, it does sometimes seem as though there is no other place where to drink and dance, so I want to make the most of this spot and go for it: Dark and Stormy; Martini Royale; In Fashion; every one just delicious.

The music is not what I expect; not so in vogue, not so vibrant; but this can be overlooked.

Al, Al, here I am! I was looking for you guys. You all look fantastic in your striped suits, white Borsalinos and beige vests. Yes, I know, I am a bit inebriated but the liquid they serve here is among the best in London.

Let’s sit with you a while. Molly, come down. How incredible these little enclaves are, Molly. These privees are phenomenal. We can sit and have a laugh, talk about our business without being disturbed. Miles shut the curtains – red curtains, of course – let’s lock the mob outside.

I am not sipping Champagne, but the Prosecco in these cocktails is one of the best I’ve ever had in this town.

I would like some food; just a light bite so that I can, maybe, welcome more alcohol later on. I will shake off the calories with a bit of dancing, the floor is getting crowded and the scene is absolutely, what we would call, a gay old time.

Food arrives: it’s miniature classics. Molly, Molly please do taste the tenderness of this mini chicken parmigiana burger. Oh, come now Johnny; leave my little chilly hot dog be. I simply adore the fact that the chips are in abundance, oh yes, and the food presentation is just striking.

We dance, we laugh, we talk, we drink. What a fabulous crowd, what a fabulous evening.

I am tired and I need to go home. Kisses to you all. Say hi to Chicago for me. Tell everybody there about this place. I am pretty sure they will be jealous.

James, let’s go, drive on. I want to read this book Al brought for me; it’s about a chap called Gatsby. Let’s see what account it makes. Maybe it will even remind me of The Lucky Pig; maybe....read more