Afternoon:
14°c
Honestly, I didn't wake up on Tuesday intending to stalk Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson. But then an invite to the opening of the new restaurant at Mahiki pinged into my inbox. Not only would the world's most glamorous lesbian couple be DJ-ing, we were promised brother Mark Ronson and (wait for it) Sarah Harding's boyfriend. Notwithstanding my horror of Mayfair, I had to go.
The good news is I managed to bribe two fortysomething friends to accompany me. The bad news is if you haven't spent your teenage years hanging out with Prince Harry, Mahiki is a car-crash waiting to happen. Our first crime was arriving far too early.
By 11pm there was still no sign of LiLo. The fortysomethings were getting grumpy. So the PR sweetly offered us the chance to meet the latest It-kid, Luke Worrall, to talk about his new engagement. Being 20 years older than most of the clientele, we had absolutely no idea who he was. The next day I opened a paper and saw he was Kelly Osbourne's fiancé. How could we be so out of touch?
At midnight, the girls were sighted arriving with Sam's brother Mark. "They're so tiny," marvelled my friend Andrew. "Quick, follow the pixies."
By now we were running with excitement. But then tragedy - we had the wrong colour wristbands. I was quite prepared to give up and go home but Louise and Andrew are made of sterner stuff. Thrillingly, we wangled five minutes' discreet VIP access.
We found a table bang opposite the Ronson entourage. Better still, it had an abandoned Mahiki Treasure Chest (hundreds of pounds-worth of brandy, peach liqueur and champagne) - complete with straws. Andrew and I fell on it. "Aren't you worried about rich people's saliva?" hissed Louise. We weren't. The thing really worrying me was: which one was Lindsay? I have nil celeb recognition in the dark. "It can't be that one. Her hair is too dirty-blonde," insisted Louise.
But LiLo it was. After half an hour, she and Sam quit the VIP area - like the parting of the Red Sea - to start DJ-ing. I was expecting scary electro - but it was fantastic: Sixties music, spliced with Beyoncé.
The only frustration was the ivy-clad DJ booth. It's ridiculously private (imagine a wooden bunker with a small window to keep the commoners away). Poor Andrew (6ft 2in) and I were reduced to dancing horizontally just to get a glimpse of the girls.
I'm still terrified of Mayfair. But Mahiki gets my vote. It has an open-door policy (so long as you book ahead). And how often do you get cocktails, dim sum and celesbians thrown in?
But next time, please trim back Lindsay's foliage.
