The best speakeasies in London

‘The bar with no name’, it styles itself – try telling that to a taxi driver. In reality, everyone knows this place by its address, hidden away from the Upper Street hordes on an Islington backstreet. A chic little spot dedicated to the art of the mixed drink: as such, it’s not easy to get a seat here without booking (unless you happen to be a regular like Paul Mescal). Punters come for the cocktails, all of which are outstanding. 

Nightjar has become a huge success, busy even midweek. Clear message: book a table. The cocktail list, divided into historical eras (pre-Prohibition, post-war and so on), makes for enthralling reading with all its unexpected ingredients. Just to give an idea: the Yokohama contains vodka, almond milk and green matcha tea, as well as kefir lime tincture. There is also a Soho branch.

Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make this Chinatown cocktail bar and 'dim sum parlour' look shabby. The design is smoking den meets hipster hangout, with vases and burning incense mixed with deep funky beats and retro armchairs straight from granny’s sitting room. To find Opium, look for the jade-coloured door on Gerrard Street, close to Chinatown’s main gate. And don’t be scared of the bouncer. He’s a real sweetheart.

The Bootlegger brought speakeasy chic to Leadenhall Market in 2015. Low lighting, an old-fashioned till, a gramophone and even a hooch distiller seal the speakeasy deal. In fact, this bar ticks all the trademark boxes, with staff wearing braces and bow ties and misty-eyed jazz music on a loop.

It’s hard to find, sure, but inside remains opulent and elegantly aloof to trends. Experimental Cocktail Club is arranged over three floors of an old Chinatown townhouse, flatteringly lit and expensively decorated. Booking isn’t essential (half of the capacity is kept back for walk-ins), but it is recommended – the doorman is known for being a little snooty.

One of London’s first speakeasy-type bars, booking is advisable – though walk-ins will be seated if there’s space. The layout of the bar, over a number of smallish spaces in a vaulted basement, gives the opportunity for genuine seclusion if that’s what you’re looking for. And if you’re interested in cutting-edge cocktail making, you’re also in luck.

This area of town isn’t as hip as it used to be, but Callooh Callay is still as much a destination in its own right as it is a hidey-hole to avoid the drinks-offer-seeking masses. Since opening in 2008, it’s consistently served some of the most innovative cocktails in London, even if the decor has been left behind: the Lewis Carroll/Victoriana theme is partially enforced, but too much ’90s Shoreditch irony feels somewhat incongruous.

Using the same naming convention as Dream Bags Jaguar Shoes in Shoreditch – ie open a bar but keep the old premises’ name – is this spot hidden away under one of the many clothiers and couturiers around Petticoat Lane. The area between Bishopsgate and Whitechapel is mainly deserted in the evening apart from the ghoulish Jack the Ripper groups, which makes a visit to Discount Suit Company feel even more clandestine.

For a so-called ‘secret’ speakeasy, there was an awful lot of publicity when this basement bar opened beneath the Breakfast Club in Spitalfields. If you’re lucky and tap the side of your nose, staff will reveal the covert entrance to a cloak-and-dagger drinking den. Don’t believe the hype. The entrance is the one that looks like a big SMEG fridge door. 

In spite of the futuristic, purple-lit stairs leading down from pavement level, it can be tricky to find this diminutive club in a converted Victorian loo; make the effort though and you’ll be rewarded. Some staggeringly clever design means that although there’s room for just 60, CellarDoor never feels claustrophobic, though the toilets require a bit of courage: the glass doors only cloud over when locked. 

The speakeasy trend reaches its apogee/nadir, depending on your taste, with this basement bar accessed off Earl’s Court Road. ‘At all times do not draw unwanted attention to our venue,’ beseeches the menu. Oh, sorry. It makes a big noise about being secretive – I evaded an intercom interrogation by sneaking in behind a group of fellow drinkers. A dapper chap behind a desk then kept the schtick going: ‘Under what name did you book your appointment?’ And, ‘Can you tell me something about your case?’