Hester's Hideout: London hasn't revealed all its secrets yet

Harriet Pavey20 February 2018

In an age of Instagram it feels like London has revealed all its secrets. The best views, the tourist-free pubs, the affordable bars in Soho… local knowledge has become public domain, reduced to a few hashtags and a flattering filter.

So it’s heartening to know places like Hester’s Hideout exist. And “Hideout” is an apt term – for Londoners looking to crack the capital’s nightlife code, the bar-cum-theatre is a challenge to find in itself, despite being in the heart of Exmouth Market. Google Maps will take you to an inconspicuous door marked “Traders Only”, which, upon a gentle push, turns out to indeed be closed to the public – is this a test?

The real entrance (shhh) is accessed via the Paesan restaurant, thankfully just around the corner. Down a narrow staircase comes Hester’s, which is in the basement, obviously – it’s Prohibition themed after all. Back in the Roaring Twenties, legend has it that the venue was an underground hotspot for black marketers looking to score deals away from prying eyes. Cut to the present and you’ll find a subterranean grotto, relatively scandal-free but glowing with restored decadence.

It’s intimate, to say the least. On a show night you might find yourself rubbing shoulders with performers in full 1920s get-up – no waiting in the wings here (there were no wings to speak of). The bar staff are sporting fedoras and the cocktail menu is a charmingly haphazard fusion of modern and traditional. Expect Espresso Martinis so strong even Gatsby himself might raise an eyebrow, served in a traditional long-stemmed liquor glass.

Other concoctions include tributes to the old classics – what you might expect from a Prohibition menu, your Cosmopolitan, Old Fashioned and a *five-page* gin menu. Surprises include the whiskey-soaked Royal Docks Iced tea and the crisp, floral Lilliefields Spaw. Keeping it local, the latter is inspired by the medieval holy wells of Exmouth Market itself - a mix of blood orange liqueur pink pepper tincture and Portobello Road gin. Divine.

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Attempts to retreat to a shadowy corner in time for the cabaret were thwarted by the fact that in the spirit of the makeshift era, the floor is very much the stage – a well-worked space in front of a piano. With a dimming of the lights, the party was suddenly commandeered by Mister Meredith, our host for the evening, and his eccentric troupe of “oddball attractions”. On a Friday night, punters can expect snake dancers contortionists, among other surprise acts. Saturday takes more of a burlesque turn, featuring showgirls and the “crème de la crème” of the capital’s cabaret scene. So sit back, relax (you definitely need to book a table) and allow yourself to be transported back to the Roaring Twenties, safe in the smug knowledge that the rest of London isn’t in the know. Yet.

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