In the late 70’s and early 80’s I was a member of the Colony Room Club in Soho.
The Colony—or Muriel’s, as it was also called—was a cramped, seedy place, untouched by sunshine or fresh air, but it served its purpose as an afternoon drinking club populated by idlers.
Burglars lined up next to actors and performers, and anyone who ventured inside had to be prepared to be verbally abused by the razor-sharp owner, Muriel Belcher, and her equally abrasive assistant Ian Board, who took over when she died.
The great Barry Humphries remembered the club’s curious appeal. “What did that ogress and her evil elf Ian use to lure us to that infernal club? When she got even uglier and he transformed from lah-de-dah rent boy to booze-bitten queen with a strawberry nose, we climbed those fateful stairs anyway.’
By far the most famous patron was the painter Francis Bacon, who stood at the bar in his form-fitting leather jacket, generously handing out champagne to the various scoundrels and roues. Bacon seemed to enjoy the insults that flew back and forth, and the club’s clammy air of decadence. “I wouldn’t like to live in the country,” he bellowed once, “because of all those TERRIBLE APPLE TREES there.”
The Colony Room Club lost its purpose in the late 1980s, when licensing laws changed and the surrounding pubs were allowed to stay open all afternoon.
Pictured: Muriel Belcher’s abrasive assistant Ian Board (left), who took over when she died, and Jeffrey Bernard at the Colony Room Club in Soho
Now, 14 years later, one of London’s most luxurious hotels, The Dorchester, has just announced plans to recreate the Colony Room Club for its affluent clientele.
“People will be able to relax, drink and chat while soaking up history,” said Darren Coffield, the hotel’s consultant on the project. ‘It will be Britain’s only fully functioning art installation – although some visitors may notice their functions diminish after a few hours soaking up the atmosphere.’
But how authentic will it be? The gulf between the two cultures seems unbridgeable to me.
The contents of the original club were sold or thrown away when it closed, so The Dorchester has to recreate the interior from scratch. So far management has not said whether they will drench the carpet with cigarette ash, alcohol, vomit and urine, although this would certainly be the easiest way to ‘sniff the atmosphere’.
The Dorchester currently promises its affluent customers a ‘delicate classical style’ with ‘noble grandeur’. The prudish admission requirements could not have contrasted more sharply with the drunken, do-it-yourself atmosphere of the original colony.
On its website, the Dorchester asks its guests to ‘please be considerate of our other guests and do not make any noise or disturbance’. It also says, bossy, that ‘your conduct, appearance and sobriety must be of a standard befitting the hotel’s reputation’.
Regular Club: George Melly at The Colony Room in London
Among the many prohibitions against guests at The Dorchester are ‘any form of verbal or non-verbal conduct that could be considered violent, bullying or intimidating’, and ‘taking any step or action that could damage one’s moral standing or reputation . from the hotel’.
Will you come again? I have a hard time remembering a Colony member who ever behaved appropriately. Those that weren’t noisy were a nuisance, and those that weren’t a nuisance were noisy. Most aspired to be both at the same time. Bullying and intimidating behavior were mandatory, especially from the owners.
Soho chronicler Christopher Howse recalls how Ian Board turned on Francis Bacon one afternoon. “You can’t fucking paint!” shouted Ian Board in a voice like a cheese grater as he picked up an umbrella hanging from the back of his stool and began to taunt the artist around the shoulders as he left the dark, steep winding staircase, with a volley of ballpoint pens bouncing off with leather-covered back.’
Who would have ever thought that the Colony Room Club could be part of The Dorchester? It all goes to show that in Britain it only takes a few years for outsiders to become insiders, make shady money and magically transform rebellion into heritage.