Soho House is Awful
SoSo Awful
Almost every meeting I’ve had in my career up to now, has taken place in Soho House. I’m not talking about meetings organised by me, obviously - I’m not really known for organising meetings, and if I do, I’m going to do it from my bed on Microsoft Teams. If I do ever have to meet someone in public, it’ll either be in the library, or the cheapest coffee shop in town. I know this exposes me - it reveals that I’m not a true mover, shaker or money maker. I am scum.
I’d never been to a Soho House before I started in comedy. In fact, I hadn’t even heard of it. Soho House, what’s that - some sort of house in Soho? Turns out - no, it isn’t a house. And no, it doesn’t even need to be in Soho. If you don’t know, it’s a branch of members-only clubs across various parts of the world. Of course, there is a Soho House in Soho (imagine if there wasn’t) but being in Soho isn’t a prerequisite to build a Soho House, it turns out - which, as it happens, is a nightmare for mixing up the locations. “I thought you said you were in Soho! I’m in Amsterdam!” (I have actually visited a Soho House in Amsterdam. I was stoned out of my head at the time, but I’m still pretty sure it was real).
Producers love Soho House - it’s their natural habitat. It probably has something to do with the manufactured authenticity of it all. They get to show you in - give their name to the concierge and register you as a guest. It’s a private club, and just for today - you, the humble writer, who doesn’t even have Netflix right now, you get to experience pure, indulgent luxury for a few hours. Except, the spell sort of breaks when you realise that Soho House isn’t quite The Groucho or Bohemian Grove, because - to be a member, all you really need is the subscription fee. There’s no real vetting going on. Can you afford it? You’re in. There are Facebook Open Mic groups with a more stringent barrier of entry.
Some people say they like it there because it gives them somewhere to work - among other creatives - but that doesn’t check out, because every time I’ve visited there’s been nowhere to sit. In fact, it’s often busier than a McDonalds on a Saturday afternoon. That’s got to smart, hasn’t it? Paying all that money for an exclusive membership, only having to then lean up against a pillar and balance your MacBook Pro on one knee. It’s definitely not the price of the coffee either, because Soho House’s menu is expensive. Sometimes, I’ll go to the Pret on The Strand to write - and often, I don’t even buy a coffee. I just head in, go straight down the stairs and get started. They do not care. They’re too busy to care (plus the toilet code is always the same).
If Soho House is a ‘good’ place to work, then how come you have to shut your laptops at 6pm? I’m not kidding here - they have a policy where, after a certain time, you’re supposed to shut your laptop, let your hair down and get ready to cut a rug to ABBA. Order a Martini, dammit - this is a social club. GET IN THE POOL, MAKE IT LOOK LIKE YOU’RE HAVING FUN. (some of them have swimming pools).
The one thing I liked about Soho House was they had a little area over by the kitchen where you could help yourself to free pick n mix. Well, I guess that ended up not suiting the corporate bohemian vibe they were going for, and they got rid of it.
Listen, to each their own. I don’t care if people want to join a members club and sit around pretending they’re in Warhol’s Factory (if it were designed by Home Sense). But it’s like what Groucho Marx said… I don’t want to be part of any club that would charge £108.33 a month for access to one specific site location.
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