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Mahiki’s interior might be best described as 1950s Honolulu hula (ie kitsch and tiki) – although ‘rich’ and ‘tacky’ are words that spring to mind when contemplating some of its clientele. Showbiz
royalty and bona fide (junior) royals mingle with spray-tan princesses and more-cash-than-dash scions of the Learjet-set, while beachcomber drinks echo the prevailing social mix. Coconut grenade
and bikini blast are the equivalent of Molotov cocktails, Krakatoa delivers a heavyweight punch, and the notorious Moët-topped rum and brandy ‘treasure chest’ is guaranteed to put hairs on even the
smoothest of embonpoints. Meanwhile, wines and magnums of entry-level fizz are downed as if the credit crunch never happened. Ribs, rolls, scallops and sliders won’t spoil the line of your grass
skirt, but show up early to avoid the crush as this post-work sundowner morphs into a full-on nightclub.
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