The Box Soho

Junior royals; pop princesses; film stars; supermodels; oligarchs: this offshoot of New York’s notorious den of decadence draws London’s party A-list... and wannabes with sufficient readies for the trip. While cocktail prices are par for the West End, vintage Champagne coupled with a febrile fin du monde ambience could easily land you with a tab in excess of the average Londoner’s salary. It’s seedy, glam, ribald and risqué – a David Lynch-style vision of the Moulin Rouge twinned with the VIP room at Studio 54, perhaps. For those who make it past the security heavies, the real action kicks in well after midnight when the floorshows begin and revellers are exposed to OTT graphic performances by fabulous freaks. Decorum dictates that what goes on in The Box must stay in the box – suffice to report ‘Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells’ would have a seizure.