Afternoon… At Sloane
The old-fashioned elevator opens. Black-and-white checkered floor tiles pave the way into a balcony framed by blooming clematis plants. Beyond, the green treetops of the avenue bow slowly to the late May breeze. Lacquered cabinets gracefully divide the dining room into intricate spaces, like a maze in a Renaissance garden, each doorway introducing yet another delightful secret hideaway where the scents of sweet peas and peonies waltz around.
Velvety red armchairs casually arranged next to round marble tables clad in pristine white linen. From the art deco skylight and stained glass windows, natural light dances across the glass goblets, casting elusive forms over the menu. This quiet sanctuary seems to hold stories no one else will ever hear.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she lounges in the chair.
And soon tea is served. Red berries with Chantilly cream on the side, a piece of carrot cake with a generous amount of icing, and who could resist the charm of a dozen brandy-soaked cherries sitting in a little champagne glass?
Whilst the dining room proudly claims its inspiration from James McNeill Whistler’s Peacock Room, one dares to say that the artist’s eccentric handling of forms and colours finds itself most finely expressed on the table. See the layers of ivory and white in the cloth and porcelain plates, next a symphony of shimmering silver and crystal, and a brief warm golden hue gliding down the curvatures of the teaspoon. A nuanced picture of tonal study, suddenly brightened up by the arrangement of strawberries and red currants, tiny round rubies showcasing a lovely translucency, or playful even, amid the flash of afternoon sun.
The noises of Sloane Square cannot reach here, where carpets soften the slightest clicks of black kitten heels. Whispering voices, the swirl of coffee and cream, an occasional heartfelt laugh between two friends, followed by the murmuring jazz in the background.
As the silver knife cuts through the cake, and the sugar cube melts into the cup, she smiles faintly and opens the first page of a mystery story. It simply feels right.
Here in the elegant heart of London, you can have everything.
