
photography. Steven Joyce
There’s something deliciously decadent about slipping into The Aubrey after midnight. The velvet-heavy, low-lit spaces of this late-night izakaya (and award-winning Japanese restaurant) tucked beneath the Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park feel like portals into another time. It’s London, but a hedonistic London seen through the sensual, ink-smeared imagination of Aubrey Beardsley, the dandy 19th Century English illustrator and author who celebrated decadence and made it into an art form.
When we speak to The Aubrey’s Bar Manager Ermias Ghebre Kidane, it’s clear he carries the same reverence for detail and provocation as Beardsley himself. Born in Rome, now a self-declared Londoner, Kidane has turned the bar into an immersive experience and designed a menu where each drink plays out like a chapter in a scandalous novel. For example, on Halloween, The Aubrey threw an after-party until 3 a.m., complete with DJs and cocktails that felt part séance, part sensory experiment.
The current cocktail list reads like a fever dream in three acts: Mythological Women, The Conjunction of Japanese and English Influences and Art Nouveau. Each drink on the menu tells its own tale, featuring ingredients and backstories that linger long after the last sip. The Medusa, with its shimmering gold rim, is as hypnotic as its namesake; The Golden Apple feels like something Eve would have risked it all for.

left. Ermias Ghebre Kidane. right. The Golden Apple. photography. Lateef Okunnu
Kidane tells us that the inspiration behind the menu came directly from Beardsley’s world: “his mythological women, the grotesque beauty, the unapologetic indulgence”. There’s a quiet confidence in the way Kidane speaks. Every cocktail, he says, is designed to be unreplicable: “You can’t just order it somewhere else. The flavours, the ingredients, even the way we use aroma, it’s all intentional.” And oh-so-very Beardsley.
It’s not just the alcohol that holds the artistry. The bar’s non-alcoholic cocktails are equally evocative – rich with yuzu, elderflower and homemade sodas that pack a punch. “We design them to be just as sensory,” Kidane adds. “It’s about inclusion: everyone should have the same immersive experience.”

left. The Medusa. right. Ermias Ghebre Kidane. photography. Lateef Okunnu
When we mention the comparison to an omakase experience, the Japanese ritual of surrender and surprise, Kidane agrees: “Exactly. You trust the process, you trust the bartender. It’s about the journey.” By the way, Kidane clarifies, “I prefer bartender to mixologist,” his tone both humble and exacting. “It’s a craft, not a performance.” And yet, the drinks themselves are nothing if not theatrical. Homemade infusions and garnishes are crafted in-house; a hint of rosemary or burnt citrus can shift the entire emotional tone. “We think about flavour, of course,” he says, “but also how it feels, how it looks, even the sound when you stir the ice.” It’s sensory choreography: equal parts taste, touch and imagination, and it fits perfectly within The Aubrey’s aesthetic universe, where Japanese precision meets London opulence under the flicker of Art Nouveau lamps.
If Aubrey Beardsley were alive today, we imagine he would be a regular, perched at the bar, sketchbook in hand, sipping something strong. Kidane doesn’t hesitate when asked which cocktail he thinks Beardsley would order: “Either The Golden Apple or Number 25. Something dramatic. Something that tells a story.”

Number 25. photography. Lateef Okunnu
And this is what makes The Aubrey a far cry from your average London pub. It’s a higher-end bar, but it isn’t exclusive. Rather, the menu makes it participatory. “We want to create drinks you feel,” Kidane stresses. “It’s not about the alcohol. It’s about emotion, memory, connection.” The experience is theatrical yet grounded, indulgent yet intimate. The 2 a.m. pre-license makes the venue one of the rare late-night destinations in Knightsbridge that actually feels alive, but the late license also gives the evening room to breathe, where it feels like, for regulars, anything can happen. It’s here in the wee hours where Kidane thrives, orchestrating the night with precision, a space where those-who-know get to enjoy all the bar has to offer. “That’s the point,” he says. “It should feel like a secret.”

photography. Steven Joyce
And perhaps that’s why The Aubrey has become more than a cocktail bar; it’s a reminder that indulgence, when done with intention, much like Beardsley’s works, can bring clientele to a space of mindfulness. A decadent drink after a long workweek can become a moment suspended between art and appetite.
words. Estefania Hageman
images. Courtesy of The Aubrey







































