It is easy to miss the entrance to Roses of Elagabalus, the self-described ‘queer clubhouse’ that opened in Dalston with an aptly romantic bang on Valentine’s day this year. Only a diminutive doorway acts as a causeway between the perpetually frenetic energy of Kingsland Road (a mainstay of East End nightlife) and what lies beyond. Look closely, and a small sign penned in looping script confirms to any bewildered first-time patron that they are indeed in the right place.
Elagabalus – or Heliogabalus – was a Roman emperor known for his debauchery; he was immortalised in a high-camp painting by the Dutch artist Lawrence Alma-Tadema. In this raucous scene, dinner guests are smothered by rose petals, in decadent death of epic proportions. The ruler has become something of a queer icon, both as a marginalised figure who courted controversy and through evidence that they might well have embodied a trans identity.
Given the namesake, one might expect the clubhouse to be a frothy ode to Victorian Romanticism, but nothing could be further from the truth. Under the guidance of interior designer Domhnall Nolan, this rabbit warren of a space is an understated and elegant affair, combining both sophisticated Modernism and nods to softer frivolity, that makes one feel immediately at home. Each carefully partitioned room holds its own distinct identity, from the narrow yet inviting counter that first greets guests, to the curved stage of the Cabaret Room and stepped Bernini Bar in the basement below.
‘We wanted to create a space that felt a bit like a house, where you could wander around, meet people and see your friends, or bring a date,’ says Nolan, who is a shareholder, and worked closely with founders James Nasmyth and Camille Jetzer to build a very particular vision. ‘The three of us have lived in Dalston for about ten years, and we are not necessarily at an age where we want to go out and party hard, or shout over loud music. We wanted to create something different.’
In terms of inspiration, Nolan looked to venerable venues such as Cabaret Fledermaus in Vienna and the Chat Noir in Paris – places where a louche cultural energy might thrive – as well as the clean lines of Adolf Loos and Josef Hoffmann, as well as the various aesthetic revivals of the 1980s.
Having a collector’s sensibility, Nolan always stays a comfortable distance from pastiche, preferring to combine elements that form uncharacteristic pairings, such as tan, sponge-worked walls presented opposite chrome detailing, and earth-toned swag curtains held back by thick industrial metalwork, or else riveted with pearl-and-spiked chains (designed by Dill Schechner Katz, these details also serve as elegant pins that are gifted to regulars).
In the Cabaret Room, round tables covered in starched white tablecloths stand out against a leopard-skin carpet that travels several inches up the skirting. The walls are also adorned with strangely kitsch period paintings sourced from the home of Nasmyth’s mother, alongside an array Classical busts. Nolan terms the look ‘subtle maximalism’.
It is exactly these disparate components that make the clubhouse’s décor feel delightfully fresh and unexpected yet also as if it has existed for decades. Stepping from the front counter into the Erotic Library, you are met by an enormous Tiffany-style lamp that illuminates a vintage marquetry table covered in suggestive coffee-table books (echoed in the bespoke murals painted by Ettore Larsen).
Downstairs, the rather spectacular decision to give the mirrored Powder Room central focus has left some patrons confused as to where the tiled sauna-style dancefloor might be found, and its curious octagonal dimensions have more than a hint of the excessive glamour one might expect to find in a long-lost 1980s club. All the other basement spaces extend from it, including the extremely secretive Subrosa Bar, with a blood-red palette that could have been lifted straight from a David Lynch set.
These moments of delightful candid confusion are aided by the fact that Roses is a strict no-photo venue, with little available information online, save for a carefully curated Instagram page. It is word of mouth that has been key to its success, as people search for a space free from endless posing, doom-scrolling and transient, transactional interactions.
With markedly subdued lighting and shadowy corners designed for clandestine moments, it’s a place that feels luxurious, inclusive and unquestionably good fun. ‘It is the contrast of being upscale and glamorous,’ says Nolan, ‘but decidedly queer… in every sense of the word.’
Roses of Elagabalus, London E8. For more information and reservations, visit @rosesofelagabalus
