Admit it, you wish you could have gone to one of Gatsby’s parties or rolled around with the Bright Young Things. For the elegant portions of the edge-enamoured East End, a home has been found to persist in living the dream. On Shoreditch High Street there lays a boutique club that performs an ode to the 1920’s. With an Art-Deco feel and prohibition style interiors, as well as classic cocktails including my personal favourite the ‘Brandy Alexander’, this chic venue is at the pinnacle of a love affair with the times of yore.
Now a socialite of some repute, who has attached himself to every interesting scene from the 60’s to the present day, featuring friendships with Marlene Dietrich and Andy Warhol believes the key to happiness is to never do nostalgia. This is a particularly impressive feat considering the grandeur of his past. Well for those who are so modern, they seem to have no choice but to go retro and are not pining for their own glory days but recreating ones they never had the chance to experience; I don’t think said socialite would disapprove at all. It is instead the embodiment of The Libertines’ lyric “These are the good old days”.
Saturdays at LDOD are full to the brim of eccentricity, excess and the social whirl. The club offers a peppering of fabulousness, a crowd of pretty people who stay out ‘til jolly late and alcohol-infused cocktail teas (served hot and in teapots). As well as avant-sweethearts, all posing and proud and fleeting glamour and alcohol abuse of every kind. They put on a fine show of entertainment, with an array of performances including live music, theatre and burlesque cabarets (check listings for specifics).
Of course Decadence is about more than just over-indulgence; it was associated with late 19th century fin de siècle writers and was more recently an old friend of mine. During the height of my infatuation with this movement; I formed an art collective and hosted a multi-arts soiree under the moniker ‘Devoted to Dorian Gray’ courtesy of Decadence Events. Furthermore I took a course on it, literally as opposed to metaphorically, yet I was still partial to the old cliché of preferring absinthe to abstinence and dreamt of a noirish Montmartre.
One can assume that this consort of chaps and dames have read “Àrebours” or merely have the style and wish to flaunt it. Comprised of dressed up darlings, with vintage clutches of debauchery, the “Last Days of Decadence” is full of shiny rather than sordid offerings. I would highly recommend this night for the beautiful and the damned and all tea-intoxicates. You will have Jazz, you will have wine, and you will have fun!