Margaux, Earl's Court

English may no longer be the lingua franca in SW5. Other tongues nowadays increasingly dominate in Earl’s Court - which this address technically is, regardless of the Jo Hansford blonde estate agents' assurances that 'this is, like, super-prime South Ken, yah?' Thankfully, most resident Sloanes' French vocab runs to ‘encore du champagne, Chablis et Margaux old chap’ - all of which are available at this recently-opened dishy wee wine bar. Like the bulk of its clientele, the bar's well put-together wine list is a bon chic bon genre mix of French and Italians, with a smattering of New World and Eastern European interest. A 200-strong selection has Picpoul de Pinet, vieilles vignes Carignan, St. Chinian and Puglian Neprica all at either side of £30. Top drawer grapeage for hedge fund Henris, flush from a good week at le bureau include a 1999 Margaux at £750. A more accessible swallow from the same appellation appears at £8.50 among a range by the glass or carafe. For brunch, choose from a selection of eggy ideas - Benedict, Florentine, halloumi and heirloom tomato omelette (£11) - savoury tartines, and salad of salmon niçoise. Dishes for lunch or dinner might typically include foie gras and pear in a vanilla and port reduction en brioche (we'll brook no anti-Fortnum's bleatings here, you skanky sans culottes); porcini risotto (£13/ £18); sea bass ceviche; seared scallops with butternut squash and caramelised onion or boeuf bourgignon on creamy polenta. Over puds and Sauternes, play spot the Windsor: Harry, Wills and various court jesters cruise a strip that was also once home to Diana Spencer who resided at Coleherne Court. I blame the Versace-loving princess for the 'hood's slide from sedate Sloanedom towards something akin to Geneva-sur-Tamise. 

152 Old Brompton Road SW5 0BE 7373 5753 www.barmargaux.co.uk 

Xenia, Earls Court

Enjoy a brandy, with a cigar from the humidor, in the compact courtyard herb garden off the cocktail bar at new Kensington independent boutique hotel, Xenia. Renovated in spring 2013, the swish pile is also conveniently located for those stuck in the Cromwell Hospital, but not so wired up to BUPA machines they can't pop out for a martini to swallow their meds with ("totes not recommended" I hear health czars holler). The list is inversely proportionate to the bijou absinthe and truffle-tone lounge itself. Kiwi and lychee martini, elderflower cosmo, lavender margarita and cucumber dream are among various fixes from £8. Butch-er options include a trio of hooch-heavy tiki ideas and a smokin’ Tanqueray and Lagavulin smoky martini. Served from 10 am to 10 pm, bar food includes burgers, various Mediterranean-style salads, charcuterie and cheese platter (£15), fish and chips (£18), Parmesan tomato and aubergine soufflé and sandwiches. There’s a conservatory, a terrace and a wine bar/ restaurant that feels jolly and light - in direct contrast to Alfred Hitchcock’s glowering dark former townhouse home directly opposite. Is that somebody's Mummy I can see through its attic window? 

Xenia Hotel, 160 Cromwell Road SW5 OTL 7442 4242        www.hotelxenia.co.uk

Adapted from my review for www.squaremeal.co.uk 

Mansion, Earl's Court

(Pilgrims flock to Freddie's Earl's Court mansion but 

will punters flock to Mansion in Earl's Court?)

Are the Lib-Dems in control here? Am I to assume their mansion tax, a wheeze to milk cash cow Londoners,  is already in force down Chelsea way? For how else to explain the price of cocktails at Mansion? Sure, the spirits used are far from being Tesco Value range, but £13.50 for a 'carbonized' (sic) Negroni built on Plymouth gin is what I'd expect to pay at 'upscale boutique hotel' bars that are way more 'destination' than just across from Boots, off the Earls Court Road. Outside, two hulking security men guard Mansion's front door. In genteel SW5, why? In case a mob of Man U fans, angry after losing to Chelsea at nearby Stamford Bridge (unlikely as this currently is) rock up and riot when they discover a Mint Julep costs the equivalent of a week's rent in Lancashire? Mansion's cocktail list commemorates long-dead locals. Hence, Sazerac - that famous New Orleans classic - for er, Irishman Oscar Wilde,  'a regular frequenter of the Earl's Court nightlife' (i.e. cruised for runty rent boys). Brandy Crusta is among the ideas that represent Freddie Mercury where a new recipe called Big Girl's Blouse would be nearer the mark. Poor Freddie: he too was a frequenter of the local nightlife. This I know. While still a slenda yoof, I ran into the old poof one night at a club called the Copacabana, (nowadays Ping http://tinyurl.com/cbneem9 ). Mr. Queen engaged me in conversation, asking if 'I'd........' But that's a tale for my autobiography. Exploding the myth that gay men have great taste, Freddie's outfits often teetered towards the terminally traj. Clearly, dead Fred can have had no hand in Mansion's ahem, witty nu-Edwardian decor. Bowler hats as lamps; panto baroque; blue fabric roses; ghastly gilt frames: if Changing Rooms' Glaswegian makeover molls, Justin and Colin,  had been given free rein at Matalan, could Mansion look any more nelly? Ironically, bar designer extraordinaire David Collins is, (as of July 2013 - read his obituary here http://tinyurl.com/l4qrnob ), another late local: his pad was just opposite Mansion. Sadly, London's greatest bar designer was not consulted before he left for the big Blue Bar in the sky. If you find yourself in Earl's Court; have a look - then leg it to the infinitely more stylish, highly affordable, Evans and Peel ( http://goo.gl/gfp4D )
Hotel Indigo, 34 Barkston Gardens SW5 www.mansionbar.co.uk

Ping, Earl's Court

65 Olympic medals? Wow! But as Britain has never won one at table tennis, now is the time to get into training for Rio. Conveniently, the sport is currently trending in London’s bars. Pending Bounce, All-Star Lanes’ £2.5 million customised Holborn pile, perfect your best pen-hold grip at new late-night lounge Ping’s three tables. Witty street art from I Love Dust (of MEATliquor renown), and deep sofas for critical time-outs set the scene for Ping's not-so-punishing boot camp. Body fluids re-balanced on isotonic rhubarb Aperol spritz, reflexes razor-sharp on £7.70 espresso martini, muscles energised by carb-rush pukka pizza - blue cheese, walnut and pear, perhaps- spank the competition at wiff-waff, table tennis’s original name, or get involved in a beer pong tournament, the get-messy drinking games enthusiast’s ultimate marathon. With rhythmic gymnastics courtesy of DJs such as Radio 1 Xtra’s Sarah-Jane Crawford, parallel bars to take to, and male Tatler totty to be ogled: Olivers Proudlock and Cheshire (Pixie Lott’s model squeeze), cricketing hunk Rory Hamilton-Brown and Daniel Radcliffe - the boy that cast a spell over a nation's children, and now that he's fully grown and prone to whipping his man-child kit off on stage, Mums too, creepy as that is -  have all been in. At weekends, Ping is fast becoming posh mosh pit central. ‘Earl’s Court just got edgy’ tweets one fan of a venue whose guest-list boasts more double-barrels than a Chelsea locksmith. Made In Hackney, may wish to avoid.

180 Earl’s Court Road SW5 9QG www.weloveping.com   

Evans And Peel, Earls Court

In a two-bit basement, in a dead-end street, in a no-hope neck of town (Earls Court), you'll find a pair of flimflams masquerading as gum-shoes. Tell ‘em Eddie Mars sent you. They’ll take care of you real nice. Welcome to the Raymond Chandler-esque twilight world of Evans and Peel. Here, beyond a cunningly concealed portal in the bogus private eyes’ dusty sepia tone office, lies a jumpin’ juke joint where - for those on the lam deemed kosher by the Big Cheese -  Shebas and Sheiks suck up hot hooch and hillbilly chow served on Clyde’s bonniest ol’ bone china. It’s a PR girl cliché, but for once ‘speakeasy’ really does sum up a clandestine parlour got up on a shoestring as a sleazy 1920’s Chicago gin-mill. Plied with £9.50 slugs, even a tough nut will sing like a canary after Auntie May’s Marmalade Bronx, Rum Runner (Diplomatico, sweet vermouth, Grand Marnier and coriander bitters) and half a dozen Sidecars. Bartenders are dressed up Sting-style; that's as in 1973 Redford and Newman flick, not pretentious Newcastle knob/ tantric twat, Sting: he works for the Police. Neat Prohibition era twists - ‘moonshine’ (Meantime ale) dispensed from a radiator and wine bottles concealed, Bowery bum-style, in paper bags - are fun film noir touches. So pull your glad rags on and get your gams down here pronto.  Historical fact: this swell caboodle - diagonally opposite the old apartment of a balled-up English royal who some say got bumped off by a torpedo (case closed, never proven) before she could become queen - was once a  dodgy dive where old queens queued to pay the rent: On which note, if you’re after a dick for hire, try E and P on for size. 
310C Earls Court Road SW5 9BA   

www.evansandpeel.com 

Pigalle Club, St James's : Pembroke, Earl's Court

The Pigalle Club is an ideal night cap spot: make mine a Manhattan, the perfect poison for a bijou venue straight out of 1957 Sinatra flick, Pal Joey. I swung by recently to catch an intimate gig by an on-form Boy George; the old queen upbeat despite facing a stretch at the current Queen’s pleasure, after an escort claimed the singer handcuffed him to a wall. In his heyday, George could have found countless volunteers at The Coleherne, a sleazy Earl’s Court joint. Reborn as The Coleherne Arms, new owners Realpubs - The Old Dairy, Crouch Hill and The Oxford, Kentish Town - are aiming this once notorious pit at the kind of punter whose idea of ‘heavy leather scene’ involves matching sofas from Heals. All muddy browns, chintzy wallpaper and braised pork belly, it’s as good as gastro gets in newly gay bar-free SW5.  A kitchen replaces the dark, cruisy loos where I witnessed a furry ‘hetero’ Hollywood hearthrob beg to have his nipples near twisted off by a sinister chap in chaps. Over a bottle or two of Tempranillo, we observe bemused Tom Of Finland clones strut in, their out-of-date Spartacus guide having given them a bum steer. (Update) So much clear blue does the pub want to put between it and its gay heritage, the Evening Standard recently reported that an employee took its owners to the cleaners at a tribunal on grounds of sexual discrimination. So if the pound you are about to spend is pink, think! Tonight, a blizzard of flashbulbs alerts us to the Heir and the Spare’s arrival at the adjacent Troubadour gallery. ‘Oi, Wills! Tell that old Queen not to send Georgie Boy down tomorrow.’It's a plea that will fall on deaf juggy Windsor ears.

The Pigalle Club 215 Piccadilly W1 7644 1420

The Pembroke, 261 Old Brompton Rd SW5 7373 8337 

Image: http://impiousdigest.com

Miss Q's, Earl's Court (CLOSED see PING)

‘Miss Q’s brings sex, rugs and rock’n’roll to Earl’s Court’ - good news for baldy headbangers that can’t get laid? Not many of those to the square metre in this ‘hood’s  million £ plus mansions, so who is this new basement speakeasy from Nick (ex-Cuckoo Club) Valentine aimed at? Not SW5’s gym junkie-rent boy-junkie Jims I imagine. ‘Earl’s Court gig after-parties?’ offers a PR hopefully. In an area low on cool lounges, this well-executed slab of Route 66-era Americana could pull a high-living crowd, so long as local backpackers don’t discover it first. Designer Paul (Underbelly, Roadtrip) Daly’s vision is - I suspect - inspired by Susie Q - she of Dale Hawkins’s sizzling 1957 swamp rock cut, the type of sound favoured here - but it’s also a play on Q, as in c-u-e; hence three stonking pool tables for Paul Newman Hustler wannabes. The aforementioned rugs (Persian) form part of a tricksy mix of 1930s tea dress pattern wallpapers, Louisiana juke joint styling, Brando butch and a Tony Manero-friendly flashing dance floor. ‘Hard liquor’ includes dirty cocktails and rock clichés Jim & Jack (Beam & Daniels). Hopefully, live music will improve on tonight’s stocky leather-clad Elvis tribute, ‘The King’-  christian name, Burger? Better not pig out on Miss Q’s US diner menu!    

180- 184 Earl’s Court Rd SW5 7370 5358