You could very easily miss Oliver’s. Tucked away downstairs in a mews opposite the Greenwich Theatre, the entrance looks like the back door to some dodgy dive – and in some respects Olivers is exactly that.

From the faded grandeur of the furniture to the swirling cast iron balcony steps, from the seedy-looking bandstand surrounded by mouldering instruments to the tiny bar itself, Oliver’s oozes a louche sexuality so missing in most bars today. Imagine a seedy Weimar Berlin nightclub, add some jazz (there is live music several nights a week – basically whenever its enjoyably eccentric and extremely Gallic owner Olivier decides he fancies some jazz,) light a Gauloise and enjoy the atmosphere. A fabulous, intimate venue, though the piano isn’t tuned often enough…

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