How to tell your caf society from your demi-monde

Hester Lacey on the definition of smartness (nothing to do with cafs)

BEING a part of caf society involves rather more than socialising in cafs, darling. In fact, sadly, cafs just aren't what they used to be; and the glitterati have long since moved on to smart bars and restaurants. But the name lives on; it seems that just about anyone who slips out for a swift glass of chilled white wine after a hard day's lunching and shopping is in danger of being hailed as a leading light of caf society. So who are these people, what do they do, and where do cafs come into it?

Caf society has been around for decades - it first appeared in the years after the social upheaval of the First World War. "Victorian society was much closer-knit - people entertained at home," Peter Townend, Tatler magazine's social consultant, says. "The term caf society came about in the Twenties to cover a new class of person - the kind of person who had money and who gained a certain cachet, and who, before the war, wouldn't have got a look-in in social circles. It's an expression people use rather disparagingly for arriviste, pushy types."

While the term retains its meaning, the cafs themselves have changed beyond recognition. "Of course, a caf today means sausage, bacon and eggs in a workman's stop-off," says gossip columnist Nigel Dempster. "But post-war, they were rather smart places, like the Caf de Paris that used to be in Leicester Square."

He suggests the American Bar at the Savoy, the Ritz Bar, Quaglinos, Harry's Bar and Daphne's restaurant in Chelsea ("the epicentre") as modern equivalents. Today, he says, caf society's fringe socialites are "people with no permanent residence - foreigners in Britain. They sometimes have bogus titles from far-flung parts of the world. English people can't be caf society because they have roots here. The term denotes someone who is not quite pukka. If you use the Duke of Marlborough as a yardstick - as one should - for how proper people behave, he wouldn't be seen dead in such places."

Ewa Lewis, social editor of Tatler, believes caf society is still in full froth. "In the old days it might have been called the demi-monde - it runs parallel to mainstream society, but is much looser. It's very transient, it changes the whole time. It's easy to get into; you don't have to come from an old family or be formally introduced, and there are no rites of passage such as having gone to the right public school. All you need is money, glamour and an amusing and adventurous personality."

Armed with such attributes, one can mix, chatter and quaff Bollinger with the likes of - who? An insider (this is a very caf society term, often used to describe a friend who attempts to plant juicy nuggets in the gossip columns) reels off a list: Prince Paul of Romania, Toby Clark, Sir Benjamin Slade, Lord Kenilworth, Mrs Panaglotis Lemos, Ivana Trump, Mona Bauwens, Anne Hodson-Pressinger, Sir Richard Osborne, Lady Colin Campbell, the Liebermans, Baron and Baroness di Portanova. Erm, not exactly household names? "No, but they'd love to be. You see them in the social pages of Hello! or the social pages of free glossy magazines that come through the door."

According to some, though, caf society has long since had its day. "There isn't any caf society any more," says Drusilla Beyfus, author of Modern Manners. "It developed from the demi-monde - people who were fashionable, arty, but not accepted by the real aristocrats. It was a form of alternative society, smart in its own way - a group of rather civilised, educated, articulate people."

What about the current boom in Italian-style cappuccino-drinking hangouts? "Not the same thing at all. Jolly as such cafs are, they are essentially scruffy, cheap, fun but not at all smart. There's no relation between caf and society any more."

One person who wholeheartedly agrees with this sentiment is celebrity PR and society fixer Liz Brewer, recently crowned "Queen of Caf Society" by a BBC2 documentary - much against her will. "A ghastly description," she says. "There is no caf society in this country. It's a most ridiculous expression. Caf society exists mainly in Europe - artists, musicians, writers, people with time to sit down in cafs and talk." She is hurt by snooty attitudes towards her clients. "I don't know why there is this huge resentment in this country against people who look as if they're having a good time. The guests that I invite to events are people in their own right. You have to be an achiever to be in the limelight - a clothes horse with nothing to say wouldn't last five minutes. Ivana Trump makes $3m in a weekend with her home shopping channel - and that's something to be proud of and celebrate."

She sees socialising as a proud badge of having made it in the world. "Is it a crime to go to parties in the evening? If that's caf society, then they aren't empty-heads. The reason they can go out in the evenings to parties is because they have worked hard, made money, and made their mark. If they spend an evening in Harry's Bar, they have worked hard for it, and they have every right to be there."