Bob Bob Ricard "Let them eat caviar..."

Exterior of Bob Bob Ricard.

London has a vibrant restaurant team, yet this vibrancy seldom seems to extend to the feel of the places where we dine. The default is bleached wood, bleached walls and tastefully bleached abstracts on the walls. When this is not the case there is, even with the most dramatic interiors a restraint, a tendency to take the historic route. I feel this is a result of the parsimony of the chattering classes tempered by the fear that a flamboyant interior will detract from the food, or in the cliche often employed by food writers, the food will not be 'able to speak for itself'. Personally I feel an important element of dining out is occasion; that you are not eating in any space that apes your home or that of your friends. Which is why I am becoming steadily more irritated by the tendency of restaurants to ape a Notting Hill/Islington genus of domestic aesthetics. Restaurants are public places, and a chef with confidence can cope with the most demented interior. Anything is preferable to bland.

Interior of Bob Bob Ricard.

Bland is especially undesirable when you are dolled up to the nines, what you want is an environment worth the pin-curls and pain. Bob Bob Ricard in Soho where I ate last week is one of those establishments that has the courage of its convictions and is most distinctly not 'griege' in any way. You could certainly take your smartest thirties suit and smartest chap out to it. The interior is glamorous but not conventional. The place has, on one side a pleasingly thirties feel, with deco designs on the windows and surfaces burnished in shades of varnished browns. The kind of place a Shanghai Express Dietrich could slink into with its hints of classy Pullman dining car velvetiness. The seating booths, in dark blue/green leather upholstered leather also has the intimacy that was a trademark of restaurants and supper clubs of that era. It also makes it a decent location for assignations or dates. At the same time the use of gold and the seventies brutalist/cubist style chandeliers give the place more than a hint of high class Moscow Hotel bar and I was unsurprised to detect a Russian influence in the menu. Even more so as the titular Bob Bob is Russian.



Bob Bob Ricard offers ‘all day’ dining which has produced an eclectic menu containing as it has to, food suitable for brunch, lunch, afternoon and late night meals. We were moving on to a private view and knew we would be drinking possibly until late so we ate early in the evening ,and for us, lightly. Amongst the dishes we sampled the stand outs included Torquil's starter of a venison steak tartare. Less oleaginous than the traditional beef steak version it was well seasoned and had a pleasing gamey edge. I also liked the presentation, the raw quail egg to top the tartare sat in it's shell and the interior of a quails egg posesses of the most beautiful colours on God's earth. We opted for Russian dishes as our main courses. A chicken Kiev was efficiently prepared and filling. I had pelmeni, small dumplings that disconcertingly always resemble either contraceptive caps or door handles. But they are meaty tasty little things and I like all things dumpling. Talking of little things I had the little lemon pot dessert which turned out to be an engaging combination of tart lemon dessert, with fresh raspberries and a long pastry straw which was very handy for accessing the lemon goo (encased in one of those funny little kilner jars that restaurateurs love so much. There have been criticisms that the restaurant is too eclectic, but we managed formal traditional three course meals with no problems. Recently people have become obsessed with being led and guided through their food, but if you want several small dishes, I see no reason why a restaurant should be criticised for a tapas like approach.

Pelmeni.

Personally I felt whilst there that Bob Bob Ricard had a few things to offer that are currently under the radar of London diners, possibly due to its location in one of the more obscure side roads in the Carnaby Street end of Soho.

Ground floor bar.

One was its attractive bar. There are no grand hotel bars in this immediate area to go to for a good cocktail in sophisticated surroundings. Most drinking holes in the area are either full of braying media types in the week or stag/hen nights at the weekend. Prices for cocktails were reasonable and we felt this would be a very good place to kick off your Soho night with a few martinis. I heard the comforting rattle of a shaker several times and the cocktails did look good. The basement bar/restaurant area is currently being renovated but should open in September. Even in disarray it had a more louche speakeasy feel than the ground floor. In addition, and I feel the need to capitalise this, the floor is designed and inlaid to resemble a BACKGAMMON BOARD. It may well be a contender for best floor in a London restaurant land, an honour currently held by the Wolseley (no great shocker as the same designer is behind both establishments and the man’s a genius).

The downstairs area (re-opening in September) please note floor.

The other thing I could not help but notice was CAKE or rather a small group of young women having a late and somewhat boozy afternoon tea. The afternoon tea looked charming, I was really taken with the witty cakes on the upper tier which were miniatures of traditional classics; a tiny square of battenburg, a miniature slice of victoria sponge and what must be a contender for the smallest rhum baba in the world.

So what did I think of the place? Well I review primarily from the point of view of the vintage-retro interested Soho diner. And from this point of view sheerly in response to its full-on glamour it gets a thumbs up, I do feel that it is the perfect place to lounge around and chomp our way through caviar, eggs benedict and english cheeses. We plan to go back and carry out the patented 'White Lady' cocktail test at the bar and will report back but the overall impression was of a bartender who knew what he was doing. Whilst saying that it is not a cheap restaurant it does have occasional tastings and special offers and this one caught my eye:

‘Let Them Eat Caviar’ at Bob Bob Ricard
In line with Bob’s commitment to make Bob Bob Ricard the number one choice for caviar in London, he presents The Caviar Lunch at just £19.75 every day throughout the month of August. Lunch consists of 10gr Caviar With Sour Cream And Blinis; Meat Pelmeni or Truffle & Potato Vareniki and a shot of Russian Standard Vodka served at minus 18C and must be ordered before 5pm.
Bob Bob Ricard already has a reputation for the best -priced fine wine and champagne list in the UK and is committed to extending unprecedented value to all of the luxury items on its menu. For comparison, the 10gr tin of caviar alone would cost £24 to buy retail at Harrods or Fortnum & Mason.
Ultimately I liked the place, the bar, the afternoon tea and the propensity to graze on smaller dishes are things I appreciate. I have my quibbles, one is that they are not getting the glamorous female clientele they could for afternoon teas and cocktails. The music didn’t appeal (but then again it seldom does). The service was good if a bit nervous, the one mistake with the order was rectified immediately. It will be interesting to see how it develops and what effect the re-opening of the basement floor will have. I’ll certainly be popping in with some ladies to try that afternoon tea…
A fuller more comprehensive review can be found at The Retrometropolitan blog, please have a look. Feedback is always welcome.

Is Christina Hendricks a size role model.

A bit of a hoo hah recently, once again about that vitally important subject, women's vital statistics. You wouldn't think we were at war or that there was a recession on or that we are being governed by idiots; which brings me neatly to the origin of the fuss, Equalities Minister Lynne Featherstone, who held up Hendrick's outline as an ideal shape for women. "Christina Hendricks is absolutely fabulous," she stated holding up the Mad Men actresses size 14 figure as one young women should 'aspire' to.

Quite rightly there has been a backlash from those who say there is nothing wrong with being very slender and from others that point out that women should not slavishly mold their size on anyone. Both reasonable points. But what has annoyed me personally have been some of the other suggestions and inferences.

One is that Ms Hendricks size is unattainable and that size 14, being by implication a 'fat' size, means you don't have a waist. Just a big stomach. It is quite true that on Mad Men the actress is squeezed into corsetry. This has been pointed out with some glee by certain commentators. This leads me to my first point. Surely changing your shape with foundation garments is more healthy, reasonable and convenient than starving or liposuction? And aren't those corsets, well sexy?

The other issue is shape. Obviously if you were naturally a petite slim 10 and you fattened yourself up you could not guarantee where the weight will go and you could end up barrel shaped. However if you are naturally in the 12-14 size range it seems likely that you will be curvaceous in the hourglass sense. Being a 14 does not automatically equate to being round. It is a natural size to be. My natural size is, and has always been either a size 12 or 14. I didn't swell up to get there, I grew up into this size from being a child to a teenager. And in any case only in a hopelessly screwed up culture would she be described as anything but quite trim.

What is difficult to emulate is Ms Hendricks creamy complexion, beautiful features and marvelous hair. However my opinion is that by being a different body shape to that generally promoted by body fascists her presence is welcome even though personally I would rather young women aspired to education and success. In any case I'll let the lady herself have the last word:

Minn x

New BLOG: The Retrometropolitan: food, booze, reviews.

Dear all, I have started a new blog for reviews of bars, restaurants and hotels. This is so that the lovely loves who pop in here to read about booze and food do not also have to wade through vintage rolls and shoes, Lord love em! The posts will be expanded versions of the reviews here. Please have a look and pass the word around!

The Retrometropolitan. Food, booze, reviews!

Thank the Lord I am not a copywriter....

Shoreditch Soho House on a sunny afternoon..

Exterior of Shoreditch Soho House

Last weekend I went to Shoreditch Soho House. When this opened in Shoreditch it was the final nail in the coffin for any impression that the area was still ‘bohemian’ or that particularly over-used soubriquet ‘edgy’. How can it be when the wealthy media types that are Soho House’s core constituency regard it as fashionable? That is not to say the area has been gentrified. I still had to hurl profanities at two complete strangers whilst walking through the place. It is a grotty bit of London and Commercial Road is a long way from Notting Hill. Shoreditch Soho House is in a large erstwhile industrial warehouse type building overlooking the Overground depot so not a particularly glamorous locale either.

However that being said I do get this outpost of Soho House. It is always a pleasure to visit Soho House in Soho as I am invariably in excellent company and find the staff, drinks and food good. However I am ambivalent about the clientele (my fault, probably just a bit too ‘old Soho’ around the edges). Also I never liked, apart from the mirrored bar area, the interior. Too dull and Conranesque for me. Never liked the combination of Georgian and mid-century styles which feel like a numbing down of 17th century flamboyance. I also feel it lacks the loucheness of other modern Soho Clubs. Soho House does not seem to feel so much like a club as an leisure amenity, members seem to know the staff but not each other.

Soho Shoreditch house is, I think, am attractive place. Not so much the roof side pool area. I think pools on roofs are a fantastic idea, and this one is nice as is the inspired concept of placing an open plan windowy bar beside it. However it was obviously a poseur’s paradise and the people around it looked a bit Eurotrashy. Still more pools and gardens on London roofs, please. It is a GOOD THING.

The Soho House Pool.

The floor below was more my cup of tea; runs the span of the building and includes a bar, a games room, a large rustic looking restaurant with pizza ovens and then another all-purpose room. This floor was a pleasure. The industrial elements, 30’s style squared utilitarian windows, concrete and exposed brick were set off with what can only be described as a rustic urban aesthetic. It worked well. The bar, set in a central Island and surrounded by seating and more windows had a touch of 70’s brutalist chic about it.

Seating in the 'Square Bar'.

The bearded one mentioned ‘airport lounge’ but in a good way. I really liked this room and we started off there, sadly we didn’t stay as some very industrial drilling on the floor below was disturbing us. Next to the bar is a games room, including a billiard table and working old school sit-down electric games console tables. These include, I was informed, Space Invaders! More points scored. Sadly it was overrun by small noisy kids so it wasn’t us scoring, although thankfully they are not allowed into bar areas and not a common occurrence. Still, a good space and a ‘clubby’ idea.

The Restaurant.

The restaurant is curiously woody, with a wall of green plants and flowers and long communal bench type tables. A wall of pale blue wood is nod to that mimsy distressed French rustic style that runs rampant across Sophie Dahl kitchens and overpriced boutiques throughout West London. I would have preferred to see the urban feel continued but perhaps that is what it takes to sell food to the chattering classes these days. It wasn’t busy when I was there but the pizza ovens built into brick walls were roaring away. We ended up in the final area, a kind of drawing room space full of large pink womb like sofas. A relaxing area but rather soporific: my friends were falling asleep. Mind you that could have been down to the quality of my scintillating conversation.

Womb-like big pink sofa room.

I genuinely liked the way Shoreditch Soho House looked, it had great views over London and distinctly different spaces. It is wonderful to see old industrial buildings turned into public and leisure spaces and the club had been designed with thought and attention. The elements I am not convinced by in the Soho branch work well in a building that is more adaptable, and as my friend pointed out less hampered by issues of planning permission. It was quiet when I went but I imagine that on a Friday night it has a lively buzzing feel. And whilst space invaders are welcome, bankers apparently are not. Which must make it a welcome haven in that area. I’d like to see it during an evening rather than on a warm slow summer Sunday afternoon. I’d still rather be a member of a small friendly boozy club or an old Pall Mall institution. However if I was more modern in my outlook the Shoreditch outpost would be the kind of place I’d enjoy spending some time in. I'm hoping for a pizza next time....

View of Games Room through well-stocked shelf wall.

M x

A weighty issue...

One would expect weight to be a different kind of issue for afficianados of vintage style. Anyone who peruses the fashion plates and photographs of the past can see that the female form has always been a movable feast. It moves from the rubenesque Edwardians, to the masculine twenties through athleticism, rationed spareness and thence back to the rounded pneumatic fifties. But that is only half the story because during these eras women of all shapes adapted. Flappers bound their bosoms, Hollywood idols padded their shoulders and teenagers wasped their waists. As many of us are retro-magpies and share the same disposition to physical variety as our ancestresses we should surely be more appreciative and less judgemental than those who don't share our affection for the past. However having read some of the heated exchanges on other blogs concerning dieting, the shapes of celebrities and bariatric surgery I am not sure.

A dancer in the slim-line twenties.

Did anyone ever call Mae West 'fat'?

I should declare myself here, I am not thin but then again nor am I fat. I rest in that average hinterland of a UK size 12-14 so I have no real axe to grind except for preference, I would hate to be a size 6 or without my decolletage. However I know that it is usual for women to have thighs that touch, to have a far higher level of body fat than men, to have a small yet prominent tummy and to need to store that fat as efficiently and quickly as possible. It is one of the factors that contributes to our longer life expectancy compared to the gents. I also know that there is nothing wrong with being naturally thin, but that it is, like being rotund, the far end of a spectrum. A variation just like being very tall or very short. But what I think has happened is that thin has been adopted as a norm by many women. Its equivalent at the other end, fatness is no less appropriate but is now regarded as abnormal.

How can this be regarded as acceptable or normative....

And this regarded as undesirable?

At the weekend I heard a group of (admittedly very young) vintage chaps make negative comments about curvy ladies whilst their badly dressed girlfriends looked thin and ill. There are women who would, with an extra stone or so be transformed for the better in the same way that I might look better a stone lighter or not. But it is, quite correctly, not said to them or about them. I don’t berate the very thin with their reluctance to eat pies, because this would be ignorant and I would have no cognisance of that persons life. Many of my thin vintage friends are beautiful as are my curvaceous ones. My personal opinion is that certain retro styles, like anything else, look better on certain forms or have to be adapted by people with different figures. However my personal opinion is that the thin need fitted clothes, there are loads of girls in big loose tea dresses looking like scrawny orphans. Not the look a thirties or forties lady was really aiming at. It always seems to me that the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s fashions give the larger lady an edge. Gowns with gathers, embellishment and movement sit better on hips and boobs. Having said that none of it works without a waist (off I go again!).

Now here is a woman 'filling' her clothes.

And the very slender Coco looking wonderful.

Ultimately however the fact of the matter is that by choosing clothes from the past we can suit ourselves. The birdlike can slip into elegant fifties suits, the large can look creamy and ample in fifties fashions, the angular can enjoy draping and the curvy sharp 40’s suits. Any of these, with a needle and thread, a sympathetic vintage repro maker or a sharp eye can fit most of us whatever the size. I imagine a reluctance to be forced into buying whatever rubbish is in fashion and choosing our style is another motivation for our retroesque choices. Yet some people are willing to fall in with the herd on size. No one wants to encourage the morbidly obese, but depending on the individual, being a size 8 is not superior to being a size 18 in any way whatsoever. In fact the only thing that is superior in being a size 12 as opposed to a size 28 are the potential health risks involved. Slimness infers no moral superiority. Appending negative assumptions, falling in with media stupidity and judging women on their size rather than their intelligence are things that this feminist certainly wants to try and avoid. We can leave it to men and commerce to undermine us. Certainly vintagely inclined ladies should be immune to this. Meanwhile I think it is time for a bit of sausage charming…..

Any thing to add? Please do! xx

La Perla Covent Garden

On Monday, having caved in and bought another dress from Collectif I decided it was safer to stay away from tempting Vintage corners and have a drink. I was also in the company of Katie Chutzpah and she has a habit of leading me astray. On this case, as it was sunny, we strayed into La Perla, a Mexican bar/restaurant right next to the venerable Rules.

Mexican booze is something I know a little about. Apart from those cocktail shaking years I have actually been, albeit some years ago, to Mexico. Tijuana is a crazy place but the tequila is good. There is something also of a vintage vibe about those rich but denuded colours, the murky saffron yellows, dun turquoises and gooey pinks you find in Mexican establishments that is romantic in a kind of down Argentine way (but further North). There is plenty of this colour scheme at La Perla and on a Monday afternoon it had what trendier people than I would describe as a 'chilled vibe'.

There was only one drink to have, a traditional margarita in its more rustic form. Shaken with ice, edged with salt and served in a chunky tumbler. It came with the obligatory tortilla chips and salsa. It is a nice airy space, bar at the front, tables for eating at the back. It is obviously popular, as the afternoon wore on into early evening a detectable buzz started to hum. Our one or two drink intentions were lost, especially when a friend turned up and kindly bought us a few more.

I can recommend La Perla. The drinks were good (they have a happy hour (4-7)but we were happy all afternoon..) the staff friendly and it makes a very good and altogether more stylish alternative to the rubbishy mega barns that have started to appear in parts of the area. I didn't eat but a friend has assured me their prawn fajitas are wonderful. So pop on your capri pants and your best sombrero and get down there.

http://www.cafepacifico-laperla.com/lpco.html

kimono

High fashion kimono then....

And now....not a lot of difference really.

I lived in Japan for a considerable time, close to a decade and during that period I had several run-ins with the Kimono. 'Run-in' is not quite the right word as I chose to study kimono, or rather the practice of wearing one. Which since I have no co-ordination, zero talent for tying knots and swear a lot proved to be foolhardy. On the other hand I was for various reasons expected to wear one on occasion. I persevered with the classes, provided by an elegant widow and her charming friends for a couple of years, partially because of the company. I found older Japanese women, away from the men to be earthy and funny. I missed the company of women. As a foreigner however I did have to fight against the Japanese tendency to get carried away by the concept of a foreigner in their native clothing and to subsequently dress me up like a dolly. The first thing I had to get the hang of was the furisode, the full-on long sleeved ornate kimono designed for teenagers and unmarried young women. I was neither. I generally managed to get away with wearing a dark one at least. I ultimately bought a more sensible tomesode which better suited my age and status, with shorter sleeves, in a soft sage green painted with flowers it suited me far better.

Elegant tomesode type kimono.

Kimono are very simple articles in themselves, but the underthings and the method of wearing them, not to mention the etiquette is complex. Some accuse the Japanese of complicating simplicity on purpose. I don't think this is fair. As much part of the mix is a joy in the process of dressing as an activity and in dressing up in an exceptional way. Something that any retro-orientated lady can appreciate.

A set of just the basic underpinnings for a kimono, I had a small suitcase full.

The underpinnings can be quite inelegant. Amongst the reams of plastic clips, strips of plastic and sheets of laminated board I saw old towels, cotton wool and even sanitary pads utilised as body padding. As you work up from kimono undies, to plain cotton under-kimonos, to silk ones things become exponentially more luxurious. The aimed for result is sleek, elegant and tubular surface; designed to show off the Japanese woman's traditional straight up-down shape. Japanese women are historically rather boyish, their physical hotspots are an elegant long neck, a slim wrist or pretty small feet. The kimono is designed to highlight these attributes. It is less successful on a curvy westerner, although fortunately I do have a long neck and slim wrists. I was never sure it looked particularly good on me, although often the associated hairdressing did. The Japanese are masters of the up-do. I also appreciated the help with my posture, the obi (kimono belt) is a firm construction and holds your back straight.

Yours truly in her Sunday best.

The historical oddities of the kimono made it fun, the purse worn tucked in the front is for medicines/narcotics. Several times I had to wear an ornamental small dagger, once upon a time it would have been far from ornamental as Samurai women were handy with daggers and expected to defend themselves. Wear a kimono fastened over the wrong side and you are apeing the dead; someone will very rapidly run up and refasten it for you which can bewilder unsuspecting visitors. Collars that hang down the back too low have an element of the loose and fast woman about them. Lots of other things amused me too, like the young woman who once secreted a half-full bottle of wine in the long sleeve of her furisode as we left a formal event. It joined a packet of cigarettes and small box of condoms.

I wore the summer kimono or yukata a lot. It can best described as the cheap flirty sister of the formal kimono. Inexpensive, they come in a wonderful range of designs, some entirely frivolous such as the 'flying hotdog' pattern or ET emblazoned ones that I saw in Tokyo.

'Ganguro' girls display how sub-cultures make traditional dress their own, note the freebie fans.

The yukata belt is quick to tie and the reasonable cost means it is possible to own several. As a garment it is suitable for the stifling heat and humidity I used to endure in the summers. Made in light cotton it has an open space under the arms and a fan can be tucked into your obi. There is always a fan to tuck in as most summer festivals see companies giving them away by the dozen. My favourite came from a good Korean restaurant. Problem was everytime I fanned myself I experienced the need to eat spring onion pancakes. Yukata are very flexible stylistically. I have one that is covered with lucky chinese cats in a range of willow pattern blues. I have a more high quality example in a very traditional white and scarlet graphic pattern and finally I have my 'goth' version: black with fireflies and a wide purple and black obi. Rules are not followed slavishly with Yukata, they can be punked up or subverted. They also look good on the boys, who tend to buy them in a more conservative palette although the odd dandy will step out in dragon prints and sunglasses.

Couple strolling through Disney theme park in their yukatas.

I do miss the opportunity to wear these, what is a practical outfit in Japan is fancy dress here. My formal kimonos rarely escape their paper wrappings and wooden boxes. Quite apart from the terror of spilling something on one I am not sure after all these years that I could remember how to fold one up properly. But it was a pleasure to wear one when I had the chance....

Girls dressed in their summer yukata.