London's clubland is one of the city's oldest institutions — and one of its least understood by visitors. St. James's, the pocket between Piccadilly and Buckingham Palace, has been filled with grand private clubs since the 18th century, and almost all of them survive: White's, Boodle's, the Athenaeum, the Carlton Club, and Brooks's, a favourite for its nonpolitical, slightly relaxed atmosphere and famously good food (members can even nap on feather pillows in the library). For travellers, the surprising part is that these places are far from sealed off. Many reciprocate with clubs abroad, so Americans belonging to university or racquets clubs — or outfits in Chicago, Boston and Philadelphia — often get a warm welcome.
The story didn't stop with the old guard. In 1963, Mark Birley opened Annabel's and kicked off a second wave of clubs built for a younger, wealthier crowd that had no interest in cigar smoke and fusty drawing rooms. His restaurant Harry's Bar and Mark's Club became summer-season second homes for well-connected American visitors, and his son Robin Birley kept the tradition going with 5 Hertford Street and Oswald's, where members store personal wine collections in dedicated drawers.
Then came the rebellion. The Groucho Club opened in 1985, and in 1995 Nick Jones launched the first Soho House — a deliberate rejection of formality, with ties and bankers shown the door. London now has 10 Soho Houses, including the members-only-favourite Soho Mews House in Mayfair. Rivals like the Arts Club, Maison Estelle, the House of Koko and the Roof Gardens have answered with ever more lavish decor, which paradoxically means memberships are comparatively attainable if you fit the crowd. Newer names keep arriving too: Town Hall in King's Cross, the Pembroke in Belgravia, and 16 Charles Street in Mayfair.
Clubs have also grown up — literally, along with their members. Soho House pioneered the countryside escape with Babington House in 1998, and spots like Soho Farmhouse and the Newt now pair all-night bars with daycares, playgrounds and morning yoga. One club remains effectively unattainable: the Hurlingham Club in southwest London, with 42 acres of gardens, has closed membership to all but children of current members, regardless of fame or fortune.
Why should a traveller care? Because these clubs are where a different layer of London actually happens — long lunches, quiet libraries, tucked-away bars you'd never find alone. Getting in takes some legwork: check whether your home club has a reciprocal arrangement, and don't assume the historic institutions are the only option. And note that the culture is being exported — Robin Birley's Maxime's has energised New York's Upper East Side, an Annabel's sister club is headed to the Meatpacking District — but scarcity abroad means fees run at a multiple of London's. If you want to see beneath the surface of the city, a few phone calls and a little research can buy you hospitality that centuries of exclusivity have polished to a shine.
