Believe the Hype?
It was with piqued interest that I read of the iconic London bar of the 90’s, the Met bar, finally unhooking that famous red rope for the masses and dropping it’s tighter than tight members-only door policy. Well I say members only, over the years it should perhaps have read “members and anyone who is of any interest to the papparazi on a slow night” policy.
Part of the fun of the Met bar back in the day was getting in (as I’m often gleefully informed by those that managed it) though the remark I invariably heard from people entering for their first visit, whether legitimately or not, was often “is this it?!”
I’ve often wondered, when harking back to those heady years, as to whether the main draw of the Met bar was actually that which made it so notorious; the promise of who or what lurked behind those doors. For sure the martini list was a new concept to London, the 3 bartenders who would work on any one shift were expert enough to match the pace of the 150 drinkers inside and the dj’s knew how to whip the crowd into a frenzy but what was the hook of the bar? If you took away the red rope, would the red walls inside fall in on themselves?
To Be Continued..
Unlike many who enjoy the delights of our Capitals nightlife, I am not the hardy type; mention to me that a bar’s door policy is a little iffy, that you have to queue/blag it to get in or that a name on the guest list is no guarantee of entry and I’m. not. interested. I don’t get that knee jerk reaction of wanting to get into a club more just because they wont let me in.
The stress of haggling with a doorman puts me in the type of mood more akin to standing on a football terrace than sitting in a bar and enjoying a cocktail.
The new, more welcoming Met bar on the Friday evening that I visited was bustling with an attractive crowd of people who were just having a good time drinking expertly crafted cocktails. There was none of the smugness on the faces that typically marked out the interloper who’d successfully beaten the door policy by outsmarting the doorman or any of the furtive glances of guests eager to recognise the person sitting at the next banquette. Just regular Londoners, drinking cocktails and having fun.
And yet, I wonder how many folk in the bar that night were there because of the Met’s reputation. Located as it is on no mans land of Hyde park corner and with prices that typify Park Lane, without a hook, will it be enough to keep the met bar busy?
