Wiltons is probably the best-kept secret in London, the venerable fish restaurant which claims to be the capital’s oldest (1742, they reckon, although some of their customers I think might be older), and which many people still think is a private members’ club. I first got taken there by S I Newhouse, the Manhattan genius who steered Condé Nast to glory, back when glossy magazines were really a thing. I knew more about the power dynamics of publishing than anyone I’d ever met and made a point of taking his British editors to Wiltons on his annual trips to London because he…
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