“Folks who have no vices have very few virtues” said Abraham Lincoln. But what about someone who devotes the majority of their time to the pursuit of pleasure? A 2009 Daily Mail article labels writer Somerset Maugham as the most debauched man of the 20th century, and if anyone knows a thing or two about hedonism, it’s clearly the Mail. His fondness for champagne, a lavish lifestyle and drugs are used to paint a rather unkind portrait of a man who liked to indulge.
Most of Maugham’s frolics took place in Cap Ferrat, in the south of France, so we won’t tell you about the all-night shenanigans he partook in at his secluded home. Instead, we give you here a brief run-through of London’s most debauched moments.
It’s not solely about getting off your rocker, it’s about making time for the best things in life, like sleeping, eating and socialising, with little care for things like mortgages. In 18th century London gin was being produced in bathtubs and inebriating quantities were sold for a penny, however this is a long way off debauchery. Those who seek intoxication to forget the pain of day to day life are in a very different place to those who, like the Sufis with their relentless dancing, aim to achieve a higher, deeper emotion, or “state of being” to get all hippified. In superficial terms, sipping absinthe in a grimy bedsit of an evening is bohemian, while getting trollied on White Lightning cider on a park bench is not an experience to boast about.
During the Edwardian era, opium and morphine were as chic a pastime as a Pilates class nowadays. Not that this was common knowledge, for the famous British stiff upper lip had never been so enforced. Upper class ladies held morphine tea parties in their homes, and one can imagine the goings-on within the private gentlemen’s clubs of St. James. The saucy Edwardians were all about suggestion rather than obvious displays; nipple piercings were favoured by moneyed ladies in order to be able to wear ostentatious breast jewellery beneath their clothes.
\n\nLondon’s class system was beginning to shift at the start of the 20th century, at least in terms of what was considered fashionable. Once upon a time it was essential to pertain to a certain class to be able to be reckless, as the need to procure a job to pay for basic things like a roof, food and cotton buds usually meant that as crazy as the weekend may get, it was necessary to come back down to earth sometime. Later in the century, talent in music, literature and the arts were becoming more important than owning wealth, and the upper classes began to look for fun in clubs where they may have their minds stimulated in more ways than one.
This was further compounded after World War I, when a new generation of young, well-to-do boys and girls realised life was finite, and started to hang out in jazz clubs. On the more exclusive side of the spectrum were “bath and bottle” parties, balls taking place at swimming baths where guests had to bring a bathing costume and a bottle.
By the time Londoners began dressing in flares and flowery maxi dresses, they thought they could change the world. Drugs were being talked about by everyone, and few bothered hiding their activities as no one wanted to be labelled a “square”. The words “cannabis” and “heroin” were never out of the news - in 1968 John and Yoko were arrested for possession in Ringo Starr’s basement flat at 34 Montagu Square, and members of rival band Rolling Stones were frequently charged for drug-related offences.
The Marquee Club was the most acclaimed live music venue (originally located on what is now Latin nightclub Floridita), where people like Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin would perform as well as party. Over on the King’s Road, The Chelsea Drugstore was irking the residents with its late licence and rock star clientele.
\n\nThe spirit of the 60s seemed to return briefly in the late 80s and early 90s thanks to a drug called ‘ecstasy’ and a new sound called house music, which was being played at Shoom in Southwark, the club that launched the acid house movement in the UK. Frank Zappa and Patrick Cox would mingle on the same dancefloor and impromptu outdoor raves attracted thousands. For a short while it once again seemed like the world’s barriers could be broken down with the power of music, man, but soon entrepreneurial types clocked on to the money-making opportunities of drawing in large crowds. The police soon stepped in, leading to strict policies and the commercialisation of clubbing.
In the mid to late 90s barely a day went by without a member of the so-called Primrose Hill lot appearing in the papers, usually involving bed-hopping and/or drug-taking of some sort. This mystical group managed included faithful residents Sadie Frost and Kate Moss as well as Hollyoaks actresses and various other hangers-on. They hung out in pubs like The Engineer and then went to each other’s houses to party till dawn.
The tabloids have regular field days with sordid tales like Eastenders’ Daniella Westbrook and posh It Girl Tara Palmer-Tompkinson losing their noses to cocaine, and Boris Becker impregnating model Angela Ermakova in a cupboard in Nobu on Park Lane. The press love to give hedonism a bad name. Then again, who is going to report that Sienna Miller decided to snooze till noon before treating herself to a fry-up?
