formula right. Soho House was valued at £2 billion
before it was floated on the New York Stock Exchange
last year, inspiring a conga line of pretenders to its
founder Nick Jones’s throne.
“If you’re under 30 the very idea of a members’ club is
inextricably linked to Soho House,” says Matt Hobbs of
Copper Beech Consultancy, who advises on new club
launches. When it comes to these clubs, instead of the
heavily patterned carpets, corked claret and ageing barris-
ters of Mayfair’s venerable, dusty institutions, millennials
now think of Crittall windows, negronis and Kate Moss
perched in the next velvet booth.
“Good clubs always find their own tribe,” Hobbs says.
“Members get a lot out of their clubs because the experi-
ence is personalised — they feel comfortable and cared
for.” That tailored approach is vital — a club’s ability to
anticipate the needs of their clientele, keep up with their
likes and dislikes, is the whole point really. When I worked
at Soho House it was impossible not to be impressed by
the preternatural charm and Rolodex memories of the
membership team, as integral to the clubs’ success as
espresso martinis. “You have to remember, the best-loved
London clubs have people who’ve been there for decades
— well before any data about the members was stored
digitally. It’s what sets them apart,” a former membership
manager of one central London club says.
This mental vault of favourite cocktails, preferred tables
— and of course the odd member misdemeanour — is
something I play with in the plot of my new novel, The
Club (written with my husband under our pseudonym,
Ellery Lloyd), a murder mystery set at the star-studded
launch party of a members-only island resort. In reality,
one insider tells me, bad behaviour is an unpleasant occu-
pational hazard and often extremely tricky to tackle.
“There was one very well-known American actor who was
consistently unacceptable with the waiters. That’s a hard
situation because how do you tell them off? I once had to
call one quite high-profile personality to reprimand him
for the way he spoke to staff — he said, ‘I don’t care —
Quo Vadis are so much better than you c***s,’ and
slammed the phone down on me.”
“Basically whatever had happened in the club we knew
about,” another insider says. “There were nightly reports
but written in code. It has probably changed now, but
back then there was BL, or bad look — basically you’d
brought a banker in a suit and tie to the club — BB, bad
behaviour ... ” Bad behaviour is built into the design of
some clubs, though — think loos designed with shelves
behind them (wink wink), although the official policy in
all establishments is zero tolerance. An open letter from
key members of the Groucho Club some
years back (the business had recently
changed hands) said: “There is now an
increase in open drug-taking in the
toilets — such as using the sink areas in
full view — which some members are
very angry about.” Still, these homes
away from home, with rabbit warrens of
snugs, lounges and dining rooms, as
well as mood lighting, curtains and doors
that can be pulled for privacy, can be
hard to police, and there are downsides
to making people feel too at home.“Members think they can’t be seen, but of course there
are parts of any club where you need CCTV for security
reasons,” I’m told by someone who used to work in a well-
known club. “There was one couple staying with us in a
suite who couldn’t keep it confined to the bedroom —
they had pretty extravagant sex all over the place. You
could literally see them realise — after they’d been at it a
while — that there was a camera right above them.”
Everyone I spoke to for this article agreed: the only
absolute no-no at a modern members’ club is to be
uncool. “Back in my day, one of the few things that would
get you kicked out of the Groucho was to bother a
famous member you didn’t know, or take and post a
picture of them on social media,” says one former staffer
there. “If you can’t be trusted to be discreet in your own
club, you shouldn’t be a member.”
Even then, though, the situation isn’t always cut and
dried. “We used to trawl Instagram, checking hashtags
and location tags, and would call members we caught
breaking the no-photo rule,” says someone who formerly
worked in a Mayfair club. “Once we came across a
member who posted a selfie with his arm around Tom
Cruise in the bar. Tom’s agent got the first call — we apol-
ogised profusely — then we phoned the member to
suspend his membership. He was
completely indignant — adamant that
Tom had bought everyone in the club a
drink and asked him to take a photo and
post it. We called the agent back to ask if
this was possible — he laughed and said,
‘Yes, Tom actually does that quite a lot.’”
And of course, you’re not going to tell
Mr Cruise off for bad club etiquette.
Some members are always right. ■The Club by Ellery Lloyd is published
by Mantle at £14.99‘There were
reports written
in code. BL, or
bad look, meant
you’d brought
a banker in a
suit and tie’
Membership teams
need to keep a
mental vault of
favourite cocktails
and preferred tablesGetty Images, Michael Discenza/Unsplash24 • The Sunday Times Style