Afternoon:
9°c
If London is a centre of influence, a melting pot of creative partnerships, deals, competition and unlikely alliances then last night the Evening Standard's party for London's top 1,000 influentials was a microcosm of that in action.
The party was held in the chequered splendour of Burberry's new HQ in London. It was an apt choice, not just because there was room for 1,000 or so urban overachievers but also because Burberry itself, the British brand reinvented and exported all over the world, is a great example of the kind of inspiring creative stories for which London is so often the backdrop.
As I arrived, politics, in the form of Boris Johnson and Peter Mandelson, was colliding with fashion and film in the form of Alexandra Shulman, editor of Vogue, and producer and agent Charles Finch.
The Mayor was soon deep in conversation: first with Ken Livingstone, later with rock chick Jo Wood. Blonde eco-warrior Tamsin Omond was on the prowl, bending the ear of as many politicians as possible.
While a good party should throw together a series of unlikely new friends, London seems to do that all the time, night and day.
As a reporter on Londoner's Diary, I see a capital city that is dressed up, laughing and unwilling to go to sleep. It has more stamina than New York and more zest than Paris.
A man who is tired of London is tired of life, said Samuel Johnson. Of a man or woman who is tired of parties in London, the same might be said. It was good to see that jadedness doesn't have to go with influence: "There's Philip Green," observed Richard Caring. "I think it's the real one," he joked.
While in New York and LA people often complain about the serious nature of networking (definitely no alcohol involved, and business cards thrown on the table in meetings before attendees have even decided if they like one another) in London, the lines between work and play tend to be far more blurred.
London's hub is a mix of politics, City, the West End, night owls and foodies. High and popular culture mix effortlessly. At last night's party the editor of The Sun mingled with VS Naipaul.
Nowhere else is there such a dedication to entertaining people after dark. Young clubbing innovators such as Matt Hermer and Guy Pelly swapped notes with the chef Giorgio Locatelli.
Interestingly, it was these nightclub denizens and party animals, from Philip Treacy to hotelier Sol Kerzner, who seemed to know not just each other but everyone else at the party as well. Can the high wattage of London be attributed to the constant interplay of work and play?
If the power breakfast was invented in London at the Wolseley, the power night out was probably invented somewhere not far away, too.
Australian Holly Vallance, the singer, actress and by the looks of things, property developer Nick Candy's new girlfriend, was positively misty-eyed to be back.
"I left London in 2006," she said. "I want to come back and spend more time here. There's always so much going on and when you're not here you really miss it."
Twenty years ago, people left London for the bright lights of other cities. Now it is the other way round. I collided with Mr Livingstone on my way out: "Ah the great and the good," he intoned, as the party spilled out into the night. "I'm off to get the Tube."
