Having watched those ravishing ladies glide into the bar, dresses swishing as they walked, and Vivienne Westwood handbags draped adoringly over their arms, I felt as though I was on the front row at a pre-40s fashion show.
Packaged as the ultimate girly day outing – one of those days filled with beauty tips, hair styling and an eclectic assortment of classes suited to all girls in search of a glut of quintessential Englishness – Kettner’s Coquette and its infused forties feel seemed to have it all. As I wound myself up their spiralling staircase, flashes of red Louboutin heels peppering my vision, I tried to catch snippets of the animated chatter of said ladies, and the increasingly high pitch of their voices as we came closer and closer to the entrance.
With treasure map in hand, my thoughts found room to realign themselves. Did I head to the Room of Prophecy and Promise to have my tarot cards read, or, not being one to say no to early afternoon cocktails, opt for the Room of Indulgence and Intoxication?
Before I could linger any longer I found my arm moving and a sudden strange sort of pressure on my palm… then a man’s voice speaking of strong creativity and judgment and a rapid realisation that a palm reading was only another treat of the day. The mysterious aura of the palmist only added to the foreboding atmosphere as I pushed for more secrets about my future. With more questions than answers, and with my mind caught, I pursued my tarot reading with a feline ferocity that may have just unnerved the Riddler somewhat.
Pottering from room to room, I scooped up GU puddings, found that some had turned kissing into a very serious art, and danced (courtesy of a professional dancing instructor) into a forties up-do by Lipstick and Curl. Then, aided by a suitably fitting live soundtrack by The Polka Dots, I wondered through a collage of vintage clothing, with free flowing cocktails and quintessential English afternoon tea taken with rain tarnishing London’s streets outside the window.
This was a secret, forbidden dalliance, an escape that one makes when one wants to re-emerge again as the ideal of ones coquettish imagination. And that escapism, so cleverly fabricated in this notorious London spot, is exactly what the day manages to do so well.
A fitting charade for a hen party, or a coming together of mother-and-daughter in like-minded company, or a gaggle of friends ready for a day of luxurious retro feel pampering, this decadent and ultimately surprising event is certainly one not to be sniffed at.
