Eating out? The main course is the in-crowd and not the food

WE ARE where we eat, not just what we eat. Which is why the return of uber-restaurateur Jeremy King to London’s restaurantland, opening Arlington (on the site of his old Le Caprice), an American-style diner, The Park, and reviving Simpson’s In The Strand, is excellent news.

Nobody understands better than King that restaurants are so much more than simply a place where people pay for a meal to be served.

A good restaurant is like a club without a membership fee. Regardless of whether it is the local Italian or celebrity haunt The River Cafe, to make you return again and again they must make you feel special. Good food is naturally a plus, but it’s not the main event.

Last week a friend took me to lunch at the House of Lords, which is most definitely a club. On hearing of this, another friend, a baroness, commented that she’d never suggested we dine together there because she didn’t rate the food.

But that’s beside the point. In fact, my meal was excellent, but even if it had been sub-standard I would have enjoyed myself because it’s somewhere most people never get the chance to experience.

We pay to eat out in order to avoid having to rustle up something ourselves and deal with the washing up. But also so as to be part of the scene that is a popular restaurant.

A key element of Jeremy King’s restaurant philosophy is based on the huge Eastern European cafes designed as egalitarian meeting points for everyone, from grandees to the local tailor. He loves the idea that anyone can come in and have a cappuccino at the bar or caviar in a comfortable booth.

But the real reason we have affection for a particular restaurant is almost the opposite to that ideal. It is because, by being there, we are in our special place with our own traditions, a favourite dish, preferred table, known staff. It’s somewhere we feel privileged to hang out. We are part of the in-crowd.

There’s no better proof of this than the lengthy waiting lists for Jeremy King’s tables.

One click and I lose my fashion sense

YOU would think that someone who spent 25 years working at the top of the fashion industry would have some sense when it came to buying clothes. But no.

My Instagram popped up with an ad for a company selling ‘closing down’ stock of knitwear. It showed a nice Fair Isle wool knit. And so, dumb klutz that I am, I bought it. Of course I should have known that it wasn’t going to resemble anything like the bargain I thought I was getting.

And eventually a 100% polyester, rather nasty-looking sweater arrived with the tell-tale ‘Made in China’ label and Chinese lettering all over the packaging.

And it’s not the first time I have been caught out this way.

If I can be so gullible, with years of experience behind me, it just proves how easy a trap social media shopping is, and not just for the young.