A chest full of medals

Lisa Hilton bangs the drum for a clever take on a classic brasserie in the heart of Bridgerton London

“RURITANIAN” is one of those words I’ve been using for years without ever quite properly knowing what it means. Fake, unfoundedly pompous, something to do with the specious bestowal of military rank … close enough to the proper derivation from the fictional country of Anthony Hope’s The Prisoner of Zenda: quaint, minor, backward, embodying the pastiche of nationalist narratives. Presently, Ruritania appears to be located in SW1. There the endless Union Jacks, there the lumbering herds of tourists charging towards the Mall for selfies with the buzbied Guards. Belgravia and Bond Street look like sets for Bridgerton, all garlands of bright artificial flowers and faux-Georgian concierges. The strains of the regimental bands can just be heard from the doorway of Fortnum’s, where there is honey still for tea (£14.95 for…

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The Critic (Digital) - 1 Issue, August - September 2023

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