Brooks’s

Aaaaaaaaaaaah, Brook’s. The favourite of the smallish selection of gentleman’s clubs I’ve been to in London, in all cases, I hasteb to add, as a guest, rather than a member. Clearly, there is a reputation attaching to the place very exclusive, fortunes won and lost on the turn of a card, etc. It is certainly true that the place hardly conveys a sense of welcome from the street; there are no name plates outside, and the doorman will make it very clear if you’ve stepped in off the street in error. Very politely; rather as you’d imagine Jeeves correcting Wooster.
All that said, at the last soirée I attended here, I can say that the staff were extremely attentive without being intrusive, the wine was excellent, and the canapes superb. I remember a very good premier cru chablis, albeit through a slightly woozy haze, as there was quite a lot of it, and it was very good. So good I can’t quite recall the name. There appeared to be no problem whatever with 50% of the attendees being female. The place oozed gravitas.
So, I can say that had I the money (I haven’t), the need (I don’t), and were my application accepted (it probably wouldn’t be), I’d consider becoming a member. Should you be invited as a guest, I’d say snap up the opportunity; lay aside any reverse snobbery and just enjoy the experience.

Going there tomorrow for a party — have only been once before and think I was told then that «ladies» are not allowed to wait in the hall — for their hosts or whever — because of the fear we/​they might be prostitutes plying our trade. I know these places are misanthropic to a degree — but can that really be true?