Toasty, golden and unmistakably Champagne, it belongs at the Feddens' glittering Notting Hill parties. Its brightness hides a certain wistfulness, much like Nick's view of the 1980s.
Honeyed and lavish with a bright streak of acidity, it tastes of beautiful excess. A fitting dessert pour for an era that glittered right up until it broke.
Thatcher-era London glitters with parties, money and desire while an outsider watches from inside the glow. Elegant and elegiac.
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