The SMEXY Guide to West London - Part 1
London has always been more to us than just a city we regularly visit on business. Those business trips merely provide us with an excellent excuse to unleash our inner Austin Powers - "Groovy, baby!"
Few cities in the world understand quite so well how to combine international flair, tradition and eccentricity - just think of Austin Powers' Swedish made penis enlarger pump. One naturally wears a well-cut suit, naturally drinks Martinis and naturally believes that only the British - and the Japanese - drive on the correct side of the road.
In the London WE love, these three qualities are still very much celebrated - and please, do stop thinking about Austin Powers' Swedish made penis enlarger pump for now. Restaurants, bars, bookshops and other institutions that are neither particularly modern nor particularly interested in becoming so. Places that are perfectly aware of their own history without feeling the need to talk about it all the time.
Here are six of our favourite addresses in West London. Very SMEXY indeed.
L'Escargot
L'Escargot is one of London's oldest French restaurants, situated right in the heart of Soho. Since 1927, French food has been cooked, wine has been drunk and life has been enjoyed here in thoroughly French fashion. Occasionally a little stuffy, but depending on the occasion, that can be rather pleasant.
With its red velvet banquettes, art-covered walls, a touch of Belle Époque and an atmosphere somewhere between a Parisian salon and London bohemia, it certainly belongs to the eccentrically elegant rather than the tastefully contemporary side of things. We like!
Order the eponymous snails in garlic butter, enjoy a good Burgundy and take your time. ... and whatever you do, don't count the calories.
Guinea Grill
Drinks have been served on this very spot in Mayfair since the 15th century. The Guinea Grill itself has been around since 1952 and is, to us, one of those wonderfully British institutions that appeals to both the young and the old, night after night. Do remember, at this point, German fellas, that in London people drink (properly) on every single evening of the week.
Dark wood, (once again) red upholstery, a properly poured Guinness and a decidedly Sloane-y crowd. In the restaurant at the back, the emphasis is on excellent British beef, although we particularly recommend the various pot pies. Out front in the pub, it's all about the finer British things in life: beer, conversation and the occasional, sometimes clandestine rendezvous that turns one drink into three.
Come for a pint and stay for dinner. Or the other way round. Or just one of the two.
Heywood Hill
There are bookshops where one buys books - you know the sort. And then there are bookshops that make you wish you had arranged your entire life rather differently, simply to have more time to spend among books - you don't know the sort; unless, of course, you know Heywood Hill.
Heywood Hill has occupied its premises on Curzon Street in Mayfair since 1936. The fact that Nancy Mitford worked here during the Second World War, and that the shop still upholds that wonderfully British notion that choosing a book is a deeply personal matter in which a little expert guidance certainly does no harm, earns it three red hearts from us.
The little shelves are positively overflowing, the selection is, naturally, excellent, and the shop is so delightfully small that one can hardly avoid striking up a conversation with someone else. Just how we like it.
Come without a particular title in mind and let someone recommend something. After all, carrying books home is one of the few forms of consumption that allows one to feel intellectually superior afterwards.
Bar Termini
Italy can be found right in the middle of Soho. More precisely, on Old Compton Street, where Bar Termini proves that neither an abundance of space nor an extensive drinks menu is required to serve something truly excellent.
An Italian coffee bar by day, and one of the most charming places for a Negroni by night. The interior recalls the more elegant side of 1950s Italy: dark wood, a long counter, little tables and a touch of La Dolce Vita.
The bar is tiny. VERY tiny. Teeny-tiny!! Which, we should make absolutely clear, is intended as a compliment. After all, it is far more enjoyable to sit in a small bar surrounded by interesting people than to sit alone in a large one surrounded by uninteresting people.
Order an espresso - one of the best in West London, in our opinion - if you still have things to do, or a Negroni if you have decided that you have already done quite enough for one day.
Simpson's in the Strand
London has a remarkable talent for producing institutions older than some European constitutions. Simpson's in the Strand is one of them. Its history dates back to 1828, when people initially gathered here to play chess - something MM only discovered after noticing the chessboard patterns on the carpets everywhere - before the establishment developed into one of the great addresses of British cuisine.
Simpson's became famous not least for its silver carving trolleys, from which the Sunday roast was carved and served directly at the table. A tradition we consider considerably more worthy of preservation than certain other British peculiarities - quod vide Brexit.
Following a lengthy closure, the restaurant reopened in 2026 under Jeremy King. Particularly beautiful - although perhaps not quite as steeped in tradition as the dining room downstairs - is the one upstairs. Flooded with natural light and offering an exceptionally elegant take on British shapes and colours.
Come hungry and order something decidedly British - the food is, quite simply, excellent. ... and that despite the old joke you may have heard: "Does British food always taste bad?" - "If done correctly, yes." I'm fairly certain that particular joke originated in France.
The Roses of Elagabalus
That London has a decidedly eccentric side alongside its gentlemen's clubs, grand hotels and venerable restaurants is something we are now repeating for what feels like the 1,001st time. That these two worlds are perfectly compatible (!!) is one of our favourite things about the city.
The Roses of Elagabalus in Dalston - admittedly not quite West London in the traditional sense, but don't kill a good story with facts - belongs firmly to the first category. Named after the Roman emperor Elagabalus, whose extravagant lifestyle was already causing quite a stir almost 2,000 years ago, the place promises a world somewhere between cabaret, cocktail bar and decadent salon.
At last, a place where restraint is not considered a virtue - thank God! A shared enthusiasm for glorious irresponsibility is what unites the guests and makes the bar and club a meeting place for London's creative crowd.
Don't arrive too early, put on something outrageously lovely and let the evening decide when it ought to end.
To be continued...