Oh how we used to love Soho. Tottering down Old Compton Street in a pair of four inch stilettos en route to Chinawhite, then to Balans for 4am breakfasts, only to stare at our plates wondering why we'd even contemplated food, and after, if we were lucky, cruising on to an illegal drinker to freebase 'til dawn with 'Nam vets and hookers.

Those were the days.

Now it's all ballet flats over Blahniks, knee-length over riding high and sobriety over soaking. Thus it seems fitting that Mayfair and St James's (which, as any self-respecting Thackeray or Waugh aficionado should know, were the original seats of the social elite) should pick up the party mantel.

Today sees the launch of Marco Pierre White and Sir Rocco Forte's new emporium, Luciano; the latest addition to the hipper than thou (for now) St James's Street location.

As most of you will know, a restaurant isn't really a restaurant anymore unless David Collins has designed it (or something), so it's fortuitous that he has. The Johnnie Walker bar has black marble pillars and red leather chaises longues (kinky: we love) and the menu is Italian.

Now can anyone tell me whether it's OK to do skinny jeans on a pony and trap?