The drinks at the Connaught Bar are among the most expensive in London: more expensive than a martini at Duke's, as expensive as the Ritz and I can't really get my head around anywhere that serves more expensive drinks than Claridges. How could anyone want anything that is more expensive than, yet is not Claridges. (I ask myself.)
The jumpy, confused staff that kept reseating everyone like it was a game of musical chairs lent the place a stressed out jarring atmosphere, but the bar designed by the rightfully ubiquitous David Collins is of course, a lovely place to be. And the cocktails are beautiful, as are the glasses they're served in. If only I hadn't drunk so many of them, then I might not be on this enforced San Pellegrino detox.
(The first picture is of two Fleurissimas lined up at The Connaught, second picture is Dandys from the same night at Hawksmoor Air Street; where the cocktails seem to be just as expertly mixed and potent, if a third of the price. Maybe it's because the barmen wear flannel instead of tuxedos. By the third picture (back at the Connaught) I'd lost all mental reasoning capabilities. And you'd better be thankful there are no more than four photos.)
(p.s. It's been pointed out that I forgot to mention the bottles of Ruinart champagne. Ruin would be the correct word.)