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Serving well-healed Londoners and visiting cognoscenti since 1851, Scott’s has its own brand of self-proclaimed “urbane sophistication” and very nice seafood to back it up. There’s a small and leafy terrace outside which is a rather splendid place from which to view the Mayfair comings and goings. This is the sort of place in which to collapse in a cloud of Oscar de la Renta perfume (whose shop is just down the road) with a cluster of Lanvin bags (again, a stone’s throw) and an impeccably behaved Afghan hound at your feet. Even the most proletarian of us can’t help feeling a little Jerry Hall here, especially as your waiter reaches into one of their fab fish-tail-shaped wine coolers to help you to another restorative glass of fizz (from their enormous sparkling menu).
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