What is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare. Leisure by Welsh poet W. H. Davies I learned by heart at school and it revisited me as Harry’s Bar in Mayfair caught my attention, the establishment in the flesh, well the doorman in the flesh actually. He made me wonder what was behind the door he was guarding so jovially. There wasn’t any signage to speak of. I had to try to stand and stare without being obvious or visible to notice the small lettering etched in gold on the windows at the front. Somehow I knew he saw me. I guess that’s his job, to unobtrusively notice.
I passed by Harry’s Bar and I wanted to write about this iconic gentleman’s club in London from an outside perspective. It’s an intriguing place for a bystander. It’s sparks curiosity. A place where the highest standards are maintained, the upper and lower class divide of below stairs service and cap doffing of a bygone age are apparent and men still must wear a jacket to cross the threshold. It is part of the Birley club family, Annabel’s I’ve been to a couple of times invited by a friend and George, somewhere equally private I have never visited but always wanted to.
It was a sunny day, Wimbledon fortnight. I spotted two Wimbledon range rovers on Mount St that day. I was passing with a sandwich to enjoy in the park and then a visit to the Mayfair library next door and it struck me about how little distance we had travelled from a Dickensian London of haves and have nots.
The world of Harry’s Bar is open for all online, through their Instagram feed @harrysbarmayfair (not to be confused with the original Harrys Bar in the Gaillon Quarter, 2nd arrondissement Paris, 5 rue Daunou, to be precise, no membership required ) you can step inside the grand dining room and meet your host, manager director Luciano Porcu. Everyone speaks highly of him in the glossy and glowing reviews. No one wants to get thrown out, or maybe the experience at Harrys Bar is truly sublime and worth the membership as one reviewer writes.
The interior design is opulent and colourful. Victorian in style, cushions made from crushed velvet of cherry and moss with silken fringe and tasselled curtain tie backs. Glass globe table centre pieces stuffed full, I imagine like the diners, with beautiful blooms in the deepest of reds and burgundy’s to match the exquisite vintages being poured and of the interiors, plush textiles by Fortuny, art, including caractures by Peter Arno, Venetian chandeliers, silverware, linens and murano glassware not out of place in a stately home.
It doesn’t look old fashioned. To the contrary it looks like a storybook fairytale you’d want to step inside. The guests, well; the now King Charles III, Beyoncé and Madonna, Dame Joan Collins, Kate Moss basically both British and American Royalty, The Carings, previous owners of Annabels. Even Frank Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe are rumoured to have visited in the half century Harry’s Bar has been been at our service.
How much does it cost? AI cannot tell you that. In the strictest of Birley Club protocol the fees are highly confidential. The exact membership fees for Harry’s Bar are mind your own business private and only disclosed to successful applicants, apparently. Insiders and loose lipped members report the standard full annual membership is between £1,500 to £2,000 per year, with an additional upfront fees of up to £1,250. No riff raff at least not unless you are well heeled riff raff.
The food is Italian, I read they were taken over at Christmas for three days by Portofino’s O Magasin, an Italian restaurant I do have on my eye on, a place on my radar to visit one day. They post images of their waterfront restaurant so captivating you do want to dine with them, and for this no membership is required.
For mere mortals we must be content to meander by and imagine. I don’t normally park on South Audley street directly opposite. In fact in all the time I’ve spent around Mayfair I’ve never really noticed the striking green and white awning, the luxury vehicles parked on yellow lines with the jolly beige suited doorman, assisting reversing Ferrari drivers into tight spaces, chatting and smiling as his clients approach or foot, slipping crisp twenties in his hand. The aggressive parking attendants perhaps swerve here. (The last time I stopped on a single yellow I had a ticket in less than a nano second and not advisable for mere mortals unless actively loading or unloading, commercial vehicles are allowed to stop for a max 40 minutes, the permitted 20 minutes for everyone else is stretched for patrons of Harrys Bar) Then the door opens simultaneously and momentarily as if the words “open sesame” have been uttered.
As I headed to my destination, Mount St Gardens to see the new Jasmine arch and sacred nature spot I spied a few lunch patrons, hiding behind green foliage designed for private dining, I imagine the perfect people watching vantage point.
I felt my curiosity peak. I knew what it looked like inside. But the allure of the unattainable, inaccessible is palpable. I wanted to tiptoe over the door saddle and have the experience. Why? Probably because I couldn’t.
It made me smile to myself as I sat amongst the common folk in the park eavesdropping the conversations of my kinsmen, workers from the Dorchester, different nationalities discussing a possible trip to the Notting Hill Carnival and one man making a joke of getting paid at 5.30pm and by 6.00pm all the money already being allocated, paid out and the cycle of the next working week beginning again. There was a lot of laughter.
I wondered if the diners in Harry’s Bar were having as much fun. I still want to go in and find out.
reception@harrysbar.co.uk
+44(0)20 7408 0844