Hearing the music while walking downstairs into a dark room with highlights of red realizing “this is the place.”
Salon is one of those subterranean hideaways in Mayfair that doesn’t leave a guest unsatisfied. If you can make it through the double doors (and they are strict – regardless of it being a non-membes club) then the world of high energy music, people dancing, seduction, business mingling and figuring out where their next vacation will be, that world is yours. The quality of music and eye candy roaming around the room are above the norm on Fridays and Saturdays, so make sure your breath is fresh and hair is neat.
Not everyone makes it in through the doors, but the staff is very kind (as are all English) about turning them away. It’s not like New York where I often hear door persons say to desperate onlookers “you are too ugly to get in.” or “have a good night, it’s not happening.” So don’t’ feel bad, it just might be that your hair is out of place, your shoes are wrong or you had garlic for dinner. Professionals who go to Salon make a reservation and slap down the Amex black cards (ok so there were a few gold ones but they also accept cash) because they know once they have their corner real estate across from the DJ booth next to the baby grand piano, there is little need to travel.
It’s a place that makes a person want to have sex, right in the room with champagne, hot music, well built women (who know how to dress) and men pretending to be gentlemen (isn’t that nice ladies?) You are going to fall victim to countless occurances of PDA all over your desired significant other after a few shots (blame that on Timo Weber and Dan Kapp). It’s on Old Burlington Street so break out the GPS (and your wallet).