If I Were Jeremy King and Running a Speakeasy

Published 14.07.2025

Let’s imagine, just for a moment, that I woke up with the wardrobe of a Savile Row ghost, a voice like well-aged Burgundy, and a deeply embedded sense of how to make strangers feel seen in soft lighting.

And what if, instead of Wolseley-level institutions, I ran something more hidden—more illicit—more... clink behind the curtain and follow me downstairs, sir?

What if I were... Jeremy King?

A speakeasy. But with manners.

1. The Password Is Politesse

You wouldn’t get in by whispering "pineapple" to a bouncer in a hoodie.

No, no—entrance would be earned with eye contact, proper style, and a confident “Good evening. I believe I have a table booked.”

Manners, my friends, would be the new exclusivity.

2. The Lighting Would Be Flattering. Always.

Jeremy would never let you sip a martini under hospital-grade LEDs.

This speakeasy would glow like memory: all warm shadows, muted bass tones, and candlelight that makes everyone look like they are of the right age they want to be.

3. The Menu? Printed. With Grammar.

QR codes? Absolutely not. Each menu would be tangible, typeset, and spell-checked within an inch of its life. You’d find cocktails with three ingredients max, each one balanced, elegant, and capable of reviving your faith in humanity.

Bonus: No “secret off-menu Negroni variants.” If you know, you know. If not, the staff will kindly guide you there—with charm, not smugness.

4. The Team = Trained, Trusted, and Terribly Well-Dressed

You’d never hear “No worries!” shouted across the room. Instead, staff would glide—not rush—remember your name, and top up your glass without fanfare.

They’d be present, not performative. (And yes, they’d be paid accordingly.)

5. Hospitality as Theatre—But Never a Pantomime

The space would feel curated, not staged. No gimmicks. No saxophone guy wandering between tables in a fedora.

Just proper music, elegant timing, and the kind of welcome that says, we’ve been expecting you, without needing a red carpet or a ring light.

6. The Speakeasy Would Actually Listen

Feedback wouldn’t go into a Google form black hole. Jeremy’s speakeasy would respond with handwritten notes, next-visit tweaks, and a quiet word of thanks delivered with something thoughtful—maybe a tiny Old Fashioned bottled just for you, or a matchbox with your initials on it.

Because grace is not dead. It’s just rarely practised.

7. The Exit = A Whisper, Not a Shove

At closing, there’d be no lights-up cattle herding. Guests would leave gently, with a courteous farewell and a subtle nod from the maître d’.

You’d walk out lighter—physically, emotionally, maybe financially—but never rushed, never unseen.

So why write this?

Because imagining Jeremy King running a speakeasy reminds me what hospitality can (and should) still be: elegant without ego, warm without script, and professional without pretension.

It’s a reminder that we don’t need to yell to be heard.

We don’t need fireworks to feel magic.

Sometimes, all it takes is the right lighting, a well-made drink, and a team that knows the art of making you feel like you belong—no theatrics required.

Now someone dim the lights and slide me the cocktail list.