If ever there were a place where ‘just the one’ was guaranteed to turn into The Fear, it’s the roaring, dimly lit basement of 57 Greek Street. Otherwise known as the New Evaristo Club and always affectionately nicknamed Trisha’s, it’s just about the only postcode in town where cheap wine tastes like pure, uninhibited joy; where down an obscenely brightly lit rabbit hole, an adventure always awaits.
Packed with everyone from old Soho eccentrics to green London newbies, for anyone under the age of 30 Trisha’s is a glimpse at the hedonistic, gritty glamour of Old Soho, and for those lucky enough to remember a time when there wasn’t a Simmons Bar on every corner, it feels like the last trace of it. This is a place where, despite myriad openings every night, you’ll find at least one of the ES Magazine team screeching along to, or over, the loud, live music, or having a DMC in the smoking area more weeks than not. Why? Because as long as you accept that you’ll never ascend the hierarchy to secure a bar stool and must never, ever try to steal the cardboard cut-out of Humphrey Bogart, you’re guaranteed a good time.
Despite all this, however, last week the speakeasy’s team let its Instagram followers know that Westminster Council had declared their licence under threat, urging fans to leave comments on the council’s website in support of its renewal. Unfortunately the window of opportunity to post a plea has now passed, but that’s no reason to quieten our outrage among friends and on social media. It’s imperative we keep up the chatter around saving Trisha’s, for what is Soho without its last breath of character? It may as well be a Westfield. @trishas_soho
