Word has it there's a mysterious unmarked entrance between the Luxor and Mandalay Bay. They say it's not a maintenance access door, because it's a bit too elegant for that and has a stylish black awning above.
But since you know what you're doing (after all, you love the whole "secret bar" trend), you approach with confidence and swagger, enough to let the man at the door know you belong here.
Savile Row is as hip as they get -- it's less fist-pumping and more speakeasy charm, with fashionable sensibilities and a sexy atmosphere that would make London's Savile Row fashion district proud.
As you open the wooden door and walk up a long hallway -- something that looks like it belongs in the lower levels of a European winery or a Prohibition-era Chicago distillery - you make your way into the grand entrance room.
And boy is it grand. In keeping with the Savile Row theme, this is the "Fitting Room." Having entered in from a low-light hallway, the chandelier is guaranteed to dazzle. The low-key tones, cool leather seats and gargoyles guarding the room evoke a long-gone era that's long overdue for a comeback.
Past the entry room is what looks like a bar - not just the physical bar, but a full bar, plus tables, seating and a DJ, where you can probably shake it to the music's beat - but would probably rather sit down with a group of close friends and reflect upon the finer things in life. This is the "Sitting Room," and it is decked out in tailor's implements, dark hues and brown leather details.
When you aren't busy looking cool - the default state of being at a place like this - Savile Row's mixologists will fix up anything you can imagine - and more than a few tastes that haven't even occurred to you yet. Give them a standard cocktail you already like and they'll invent something that will make you a very happy camper.
A mix of up and coming indie DJs often appear here. The club will always have a DJ, though, but they won't be blasting beats at deafening volumes because this isn't that kind of club.
But you already knew that, didn't you?
-- Review by Jorge Labrador