As a name, One Club Row sounds a bit like the title of a 1990s lads’ mag, but it’s actually a purposely shabby-chic room above a pub in Shoreditch that serves martinis, oysters and schnitzels in a heady, tipsy, twinkly atmosphere that itself may well remind you of the 1990s. Or at least it will if you were “on the scene” back then. These days, the 90s are synonymous with louche, raffish semi-pandemonium, mainly because today feels so saintly in comparison. No 90s restaurateur ever offered reclaimed spud peelings as a starter or a kombucha-led, alcohol-free drinks flight to spare your liver, complete with an earnest lecture on zero-waste hospitality. Puritanism was definitely out there back then, yes, though mainly only in The Cranks Recipe Book. But mindfulness? Not so much.
What One Club Row and similar London establishments such as the Devonshire in Piccadilly and the Plimsoll in Finsbury Park seem to offer, is a thrilling, retro glimpse of mindlessness. Battered stuff, things in buns, strong drinks – and the sense that, at any point, you might cop off with one of Shed Seven or Wendy from Transvision Vamp.
