This tone carries into The Erotic Library, where sponge-painted walls are adorned with erotic murals by queer artist Ettore Larsen, together with a curated selection of erotica and homoerotic visual literature displayed across bookshelves and a communal table encircled by skirted stools. A bespoke “Curtain Floor Lamp,” designed by Nolan, made of polished stainless steel and raw silk, illuminates without intruding, whilst also providing a quiet focal point, a feat, which proved to be quite the challenge: “Unlike the wall lights we developed with Riley Chambers, there’s only one of these, so it had to be perfect. I think it sits proudly in that corner now.”

At the heart of Roses is The Cabaret, a performance space that hosts “dinner and a show” evenings. Here, a leopard-print carpet and a mirrored fireplace may flirt with kitsch but land instead on a lived-in theatricality. “I wanted it to feel maximalist like a worn-in home,” Nolan explains. “Surrounded by details and bricolage, but still rational from a hospitality perspective.” In a layout that had to work for movement and service, the space successfully reflects a wide spectrum of moods, from candlelit intimacy to raucous revelry.

What ultimately binds these spaces doesn’t just come down to aesthetics, but atmosphere. “I wanted people to feel like they’ve been transported,” Nolan says. “To stay longer and longer. And then bring their friends back.” Having already developed a loyal following, its success, Nolan believes is most probably due to the fact that: “There aren’t many queer spaces in London designed like this. It’s lovely to see how people have adopted it as a home.”

In a nightlife landscape often dominated by generic functionality, Roses of Elagabalus feels like a reclamation of space, not just physically, but emotionally and culturally. It offers queer Londoners something that feels increasingly rare: a place to dress up and inhabit a shared fantasy, however fleeting.