In the louche, limestone-swishy streets of Mayfair, where embassies, oh-so-private banks and fantastical members’ clubs sit cheek-by-jowl, there’s a new kid on the block. With its chequered floors, chandeliers and velvet boudoirs, it’s as though the Twenty Two lived through London’s top hat hedonism. But this dress code-free members’ club is as fancy-fresh as they come – riding the Mayfair Renaissance wave from global elite ghost town to the happening heart of London.
