We visit Troy 22, referred to as Helen of Troy by those in the know, to see what’s working for the nightlife economy; the answer seems straightforward: nostalgia, subculture, and community.
“It’s back to the ’60s, where Soho was the scene where everybody was crazy, dancing, having fun, well dressed, scooters around. Creative people all over the place. This is what I wanted to make this place,” says Ananda Kuhn, artist, musician, and the manager of Helen of Troy in Soho.
“I am a party girl. I love to dance until the early hours of the morning, and we can’t. But here we can. We can do it!”
The future of the UK’s nightlife is looking increasingly uncertain, as shown by figures from the Night Time Industries Association, which indicate the country lost more than a third of its nightclubs between 2010 and 2023.
In London, the situation is stark, with more than 3,000 clubs, pubs, and bars closing since the pandemic.
Should this pattern continue, the UK could lose the nightclub industry that formed our many subcultures almost completely by the end of 2029.
Looking for answers to the possible impending doom, I turn to a place that is making it work.
Helen of Troy is a cocktail bar, often used to display artist work, with a basement club known for its ‘dive bar’ atmosphere and various different club nights and DJ sets; spanning from rock and roll, R&B, soul, garage, punk and psych rock with an emphasis on 50s – 80s music and culture. It is located on Hanway Street, on the fringes of Soho and Fitzrovia.
When the owner of Helen of Troy pleaded for Ananda to manage the club after its relocation next door earlier this year, her intentions were clear: “I wanted to make this place a cool place because I needed it, and I know that everyone else who is in the same scene as me needed it too. So, I was like, let’s make it happen, you know? I know so many amazing DJs. I know so many amazing musicians and artists.”
On a packed Saturday, the evening crowd is in full swing. The streets outside are scattered with smokers treating the pavement as a snug chaise lounge, catching up with friends, reflecting on the DJ’s set lists and admiring outfits.
Amongst it all is Conor, one-fourth of Sherry’s Soul Society, a Northern Soul, Motown & RnB DJ collective, and a close collaborator of Sherry’s London, the iconic British Mod heritage brand, established in 2024. He is also the founder of the Tickety-boo club night, launched in partnership with DJ Bioux.
He believes a distinctive energy defines the club. “It’s run by someone who’s truly creative. We’ll have an idea and give it; if the idea runs off on a tangent, she’ll let you run with it. She lets you do your own thing, and therefore, it’s very, very, very special.”
Conor was first approached to put on a Northern Soul night: “We immediately realised that, looking at the venue and what we do, it would not be viable. However, we were looking to get into another branch of music, more of a traditional sort of mod, R&B sort of thing.”
This understanding established the monthly Helen of Troy, Tickety-boo club night.
To explore the subcultures holding refuge in the bar further, I spoke to Tom, who has been on the Teddy Boy/Rockabilly scene since the early 2010s.
“I know a lot of older people from the ’50s and ’60s from Bar Italia who used to be Teddy Boys. They appreciate the fact that you’re into all that sort of music and admire that you picked up on it and kept the scenes alive,” he explains
“If we don’t bring new people, we’re just polishing the brass on the Titanic. It looks good now, but it’s going down fast.”
An issue Tom doesn’t see in the ’60s mod scene as “the elders are figured out”, realising they needed to bring in young people to keep the subculture alive, passing down clothing, welcoming younger people in and sharing “where the good stuff is, the gigs, the shops”.
Much of the continuous success in the ’60s mod scene is interlinked to the exponential resurgence of northern soul club nights all over London and England alike.
These include The Deptford Northern Soul Club in venues like Omeara and MOTH club, The Rivoli Ballroom with Soul Stompers, and special dates for the ’60s Rhythm & Soul Society at the 100 Club, and pop-ups from groups like Bristol Northern Soul Club, to name a few.
Alongside Tom is his friend Aaron; originally from Leeds, he moved to London three years ago. “I really felt it was the rock and roll scene which took me under the wing. I only had to scout one or two gigs before people started chatting. And then you get recognised, and then, before you know it, you are one of them.”
Admiring the club’s ability to connect, Aaron reiterates, “it’s the dancing and the friends that you make, the connections every time you go. It brings people from all walks of life. We are all from our own backgrounds. Everyone has their own niche, their own interest, and that’s what makes it special. When it comes together, you get a melting pot of different opinions, different styles, look around,” he says.
“What I do love is that out of all the venues, there’s more and more young people here. It’s not a case of old people dying out, it’s just constantly getting bigger every time I turn up.”
Inside Troy 22, there’s a preserved insight into the civilised approach to clubbing established in the ’60s. A decadent bar, lined by a unified group of 20-60 year-olds, all drinking. For most, this is the second or third stop of the night.
Sitting by the bar, I found a pair of friends, Steve, a musician, and David, a frequent visitor.
David gave context to the previous venue. “I came to Troy when it was next door originally — basically a squat. An old boarded-up, rickety house with wooden boards across the corners. It was a real dive bar.”
“They’ve taken the essence of that place and brought it next door. Polished it a little but kept the soul. It still has that rough edge that makes it feel natural.”
David added that, unlike most venues in London, “when you walk in here, it radiates with energy, from the musicians to the people. Wherever I sit, I am always surrounded by interesting people.
“It’s really about the draw: the venue, the music, the fashion. When you’re around people who are passionate, you’ll always find something familiar — even with strangers.”
Nearby is Mark, a loyal visitor who keeps coming back for one simple reason: “You can dance anywhere you want to, and somebody is going to smile at you. And I think that’s the best, that’s the biggest thing of all.
“Great music is great music, however old you are. People who understand this come, and they’ll always dance with you; it’s not a sexual thing or a friendly thing. It’s just a genuine joy of music thing. It’s when the music is brilliant, and the people who are there want to dance. It’s about dancing.
“Nobody cares if you’re 62 or 22. Ever since human beings began, it’s all we’ve needed. Dancing, talking, meeting new people.”
Building on that, Alexandra Rose, musician and DJ, added: “It’s all Vinyl, all ’60s, all groovy, that authentic feel, as though you’re in a basement club in a decade you weren’t even born in. Nobody judges; nobody cares. Everybody just vibing to the same tunes. They’re really fucking good records.”
The historical legacy of this location and what it afforded decades before is mirrored in the present success. Aaron, another member of Sherry’s Soul Society, justifies the link: “Soho is built of these little venues with basements and not a lot are used anymore.”
“[In the] ’60s, people would leave their work at lunchtime, and go straight to them, and now it’s the same sort of vibe here, but for the evening. It’s the closest you can get to a ’60s venue. This is the only place that is still using the basement as a venue. So, it is not only a nod to the past but is part of the past.”
Lydia Sharp of Monte Carlos has been “coming here since I was 15, I’m 26 now. It was the Hanway Social. And in recent years, it’s been taken over to be the Helen of Troy. The Hanway was struggling for a lot of years, and the community here has brought it back as the Helen of Troy, and it’s really popping off again like they’ve brought the spirit of Soho back,” she told us.
“I’ve been on the ’60s scene, I’ve been on the ’50s scene, and the thing that we’re experiencing now is this new wave of youth that are jumping from scene to scene where we’re all appreciating the same music. So many of my friends, they all run clubs, and we’re all just trying to make people have a good time and make people embrace the music that we love.”
Helen of Troy is thriving because it offers what much of the UK’s declining nightlife has forgotten: authenticity, community, and subculture-driven identity.
It’s a return to authentic culture and nostalgia, a creative, community-led approach, cross-generational inclusivity welcoming all subcultures and providing an emotional draw of connection and belonging.
Without these rare and wonderful qualities within a venue, we are disconnected communities, drinking extortionately priced drinks surrounded by strangers.
All photography by Martha Colbran.