Meet London's professional gatecrashers who blag their way into VIP parties and film premieres

NFI? So are they…but that doesn’t stop them attending the capital’s most exclusive events. Guy Pewsey investigates the world of the professional gatecrasher to find how, and why, they do it 
Guy Pewsey26 November 2015

A crisp night in Mayfair. Outside Claridge’s a scrum of paparazzi congregates around the red carpet. A car with blacked-out windows pulls up and a statuesque blonde in an evening gown steps out, bathed in camera flashes. Inside, she sips champagne and swaps compliments with the arriving stars, who include an Oscar-winning actress. The ballroom doors open and the guests amble in for dinner.

The woman lingers near the door, her eyes scanning the tables as the seats fill up until each place is accounted for. Only then does her veneer finally crack: she will not be having dinner tonight, because she was never invited to the event in the first place. She downs her drink and leaves without a word, just another gatecrasher on her way to her next event.

Looking the part...in someone else's black mink

Blagging your way into a party without an invitation is no new feat: the thrill of sneaking into somewhere forbidden and reaping the rewards of feeling like a star has always been difficult to resist. But with the rise of social media, it is almost too easy to become someone else for the night. No time is this truer than at Christmas when a schedule of never-ending social functions is already booked in. James Ware, a 23-year-old YouTuber, became a short-lived sensation after getting into the premiere of Spectre at the Royal Albert Hall and the after-party at the British Museum, where he rubbed shoulders with Daniel Craig, Léa Seydoux and Naomie Harris. The Oxford graduate initially claimed to have printed off the invitation from a stranger’s Instagram post, and while he eventually admitted that he had bought his ticket through the box office, the use of Twitter and other social media provides limitless possibilities.

Christmas party looks

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Many naïve partygoers can’t resist tweeting or Instagramming in advance about a forthcoming party and providing a name that can be used on arrival. Several guests at the GQ Men of the Year awards in September spent half the ceremony finding out who was on the list for Matthew Freud’s Primrose Hill after-party, intending to get there before the real Emilia Clarke or Chiwetel Ejiofor showed up. When Lady Gaga performed a secret gig at Annabel’s back in 2011, one superfan was so desperate for entry that she dressed up as the singer in the hope that the paparazzi flashbulbs would provide sufficient proof of her identity. And when Jeremy Renner hosted the opening of La Maison Rémy Martin in Soho last month, a devotee attempted to convince staff that she was Renner’s mother.

Most successful gatecrashers simply have a glass of bubbly or two, congratulate themselves and leave before their luck runs out.

The artful security dodger at work

But there are veterans who have turned the practice into a criminal activity. Buoyed by adrenaline and anonymity, the temptation of theft becomes, for some, too strong to resist. So you may notice a crystal ashtray being slipped into a handbag, or a display sample somehow finding its way off the hanger. One doyenne was last seen being rumbled as she attempted to get into the tenth anniversary party of Nobu Berkeley Street, hosted by Robert De Niro. But you will usually find her in the cloakroom, convincing an attendant that she’s lost her ticket and that she owns the black mink hanging in full view. Fearing repercussions, they oblige, and with no record of her attendance it is impossible to prove she was ever there to begin with.

A gatecrasher’s motives are usually simple: why go to a bar or restaurant when complimentary drinks and food — with the added benefit of the chance to chat to Lindsay Lohan in the toilets or flirt with Harry Styles in the smoking area — are only one little white lie away? But for some it’s more complex. At a recent book launch in Piccadilly I met Frank, a well-heeled gatecrasher in his fifties who gets the bus into town from Chiswick three times a week. ‘Why do people climb Mount Everest?’ he responded when I asked why he did it. ‘Because it’s there. Sometimes it doesn’t work out and you go home with your tail between your legs. But there’s nothing like the feeling of pulling it off.’ It’s more political for Alice, a 24-year-old social media executive from East London, younger than most veterans and newer to the scene. ‘These parties are full of people with no more right to be here than I have,’ she said, sipping mulled cider a few metres away from Gemma Arterton, bedecked in £1.5m of diamonds at a Christmas party at Tiffany & Co. ‘They happen to know someone who knows someone, then become convinced that they are better than people like me. I suppose sneaking in is my own small form of rebellion.’ She concedes, though, that the open bar is also a draw.

When one door closes... have a story prepped

Some venues, of course, are easier to enter than others. For the event managers who have spent weeks coordinating guest lists, each gatecrasher is a slap in the face, and they will show no tact or discretion in what they refer to as ‘taking out the trash’. Staff at restaurants like Chiltern Firehouse and Sushisamba, which host stars such as Robert Pattinson and Gwyneth Paltrow, are trained to distrust walk-ins, so crashers attempting entry to private parties there will usually be given short shrift, while private members’ clubs are best avoided, too. The primary targets are galleries, bookshops and department stores: the entrances aren’t as well guarded, the staff less assured and the security more lax. That said, a good cover story, a subtly dropped name and the perfect tone of self-assurance can grant access to even the most secure setting. At Halloween, Veuve Clicquot threw a Gothic extravaganza in Bloomsbury, with Elle Macpherson and Charli XCX among the guests. But with revellers draped in black lace and caked in make-up, one of the uninvited roamed as he pleased, safe in the knowledge that, if asked, he could say that he was Lily Allen in costume.

How to crash London's top parties

Location, location, location

Pick your targets carefully and know your limits: public spaces are fair game, but events involving royalty or diplomats usually require photo ID, so the legendary bashes thrown by US Ambassador Matthew Barzun at Winfield House (recent guests have included Cate Blanchett and Cressida Bonas) or anything within a mile of Kensington Palace aren’t worth the bus fare.

Have a story prepped

Come up with a simple but effective backstory and a believable false name. A little research goes a long way: claiming to be a last-minute guest of the alcohol sponsor or agency boss, rather than the VIP guest of honour, makes you sound important enough to be granted immediate access with minimal questions. Never pretend to be a journalist: door staff are often junior PRs who will know that you’re not who you say you are.

'Sometimes it doesn't work out. But there's nothing like the feeling of pulling it off'

Look the part

Showing up to a party at Annabel’s in jeans and trainers is guaranteed to get you turned away. Take an educated guess at the dress code and, if in doubt, show up in a suit or your best cocktail dress. At high-security events go for monochrome: you might pass as staff.

Blend in

Once you’re in, don’t draw attention to yourself. So don’t approach famous guests, don’t introduce yourself to too many people and avoid excessive picture-taking. But a lone figure can be as conspicuous as a loud one, so where possible gatecrash in pairs.

Know when you've been rumbled

It’s crucial to understand when the publicist on the door can be lightly coerced into looking the other way, and when they can see through an obvious lie. Sense when their patience is about to be tested and when that happens make your excuses and walk away. Few goody bags are worth losing your dignity for.

Illustrations by Tom Bachtell

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