I’m going to still be going to Rules when I’m 80 I-should-live-so-long. It’s one of the reasons I love it so much. Last time I went there was an Indie-pop guy staggering through the restaurant, fag attached to lower lip, on a regular trajectory to the smoking pavement outside. He got exactly the same courtesy and charm from the retainers (I can only think of them as such…) as the astrakhan-coated rich luvvies at the next table.
En plus, their cocktail bar upstairs is my secret hideaway. Proper drinks, proper service, looks like it has been around for ever, remarkable for something that was crafted out of bits of the old Savoy only recently. I carefully didn’t mention in the review but am happy to share with the three or four people who ever read this wee thing.