Beijing Boyce

I toiled beyond the borders of China during the heydays of Neo Lounge and Vogue, the venues that shot Henry Li to the top of the Beijing club-owner charts a few years ago. Even so, I am intrigued by the history of those two places, about which so many friends rave ecstatic. I had high expectations for Li’s new club, Rui Fu. I wanted to like this joint, to understand the buzz created by my friends. And since it is named after and based in the abode of an early twentieth-century Chinese leader, I envisioned a spacious place that welded the modern to the past, had layers of character and, given Li’s bar experience, served good drinks.

One thing is true: the club is spacious. The ceilings are lofty, the lounge areas sprawling, the 1000 square meters ample. But any homage to the past is absent. Rui Fu is a virtual reality. It evokes the spirits of the plush karaoke, generic hotel casino, and modernized opium den, places where losing track of time, forgetting the complexities of every day life, and finding indulgences are givens. The main floor is divided into two large narrow rooms joined by an opening. From the near side’s perspective, tables and chairs, then lounge areas, flow until they meet that opening, beyond which figures appear as silhouettes. A row of toffee-colored octopi-like “chandeliers” crowned with donut-shaped lights crawls spans the ceiling, framed by a strip of soft lights along the trim and a neon glow from the rafters. And a room-length curtain flows in front of what is mostly likely a wall, but could be a hiding spot for a Wizard of Oz type, calmly keeping the lights just dim enough, the house music just restrained enough, so that things stay on simmer. It all seems a bit unreal, as though pulling a lever might dissolve this scene. I’ll end my comments on ambience here, for my time at Rui Fu was short, my quota for being pretentious has been met, and a proper evaluation will require several return trips.

As for Rui Fu’s bar, it is L-shaped and seats about 15 people (fans of reddish velvet framed by white piping look will love the chairs). My only cocktail was, in theory, a vodka martini with a twist: the bartender inexplicably squeezed a lemon into the shaker with the alcohol rather than, as is proper, placing a strip of peel in the glass as a final touch. (*This* was the time for a lever that would make something, namely my drink, disappear.) It might be best to stick to wine, beer or spirits, which are reasonably priced (a serving of Johnnie Walker Black is Y35).

Rui Fu, still to have its official opening, will rank among the year’s top bar stories, one with a high-falutin’ plot if the free English magazines are any indicator (that’s Beijing got in the first “see and be seen” reference, while Timeout used “glitterati” and expressed seeming displeasure that “some guests [at the soft launch] obviously missed the whole point of Rui Fu as they slobbed around in jeans, trainers and t-shirts, not quite reflecting the A-list celebrity hang out that Lee has envisaged”). Throw in the general consensus that serious guanxi is behind the club, that Henry Li is a brand name in and of himself, and that plenty of old-time party-goers will be looking to re-live the days of Vogue and Neo Lounge, and it’s going to get interesting.

(From Beijing Boyce XXII, first emailed on August 12, 2006)