The wind that shakes the hedgies snuffs out the lights of Mayfair
Hedge fund managers, smartly dressed residents and luxury shoppers used to fill the bars, terraces and restaurants on Lancashire Court, a small alleyway in the heart of Mayfair. But now, on a sunny spring day, the immaculately laid tables in this hidden part of central London are mostly empty.
The credit crunch has bitten into Mayfair, the area that European hedge fund managers chose to settle in, away from the large corporations and grey suits of the Square Mile and Canary Wharf. Attracted by riskier investments – and higher returns – young hedge fund professionals bought their trendy clothes in the area's upscale boutiques and lunched at restaurants such as Nobu, near Berkeley Square. Now the wealth seems to have evaporated.
"Hedge funds have done very badly out of this crisis," said Richard Snook, senior economist at the Centre of Economic and Business Research. "It's impossible to beat the market on a risk-free basis, and some were extremely leveraged."
Hedge fund's assets under management are likely to plunge to $1tn (£675bn) globally, down from about $2tn last year. Jobs have been lost and those who still keep them have toned down their spending. "We see the largesse and exuberance, and conspicuous consumption, wiped out," Snook said.
Financial services professionals, such as Oliver Westray, admit to eating sandwiches at their desks more often than they used to. "There's less going out with colleagues," he says. "You don't want to claim too much expenses. You can't get away with claiming as we did last year – half, if not less."
It's not just them. Each hedge fund manager may generate more than two jobs, Snook said. The City, for instance, generates an annual £13bn income for such businesses as office suppliers, cleaners, caterers and taxis, he said, adding that the credit crunch will cost the City about 20% of its 350,000 jobs. "It has a huge knock-down effect on the retail and leisure sectors and the housing market in London."
"We're finding it really bad," says Bijan Tabesh, looking around his empty men's clothing shop. He is holding a "credit crunch clearance sale" but says he will go bust in six months if business doesn't pick up.
With his fabric being imported from Italy, he is also facing higher costs because of the weak pound. "We almost collapsed three months ago – it's a struggle."
Itsu, a Japanese restaurant on Han*over Square, used to have long queues for £1.95 green bean pots and £6.95 sushi platters. Now it is half empty, with plenty of space to sit outside. (AtW's comment: this could have something to do with Po-210...)
"The average spend has come down," says Mario Markoras, manager of Hush, a restaurant in Lancashire Court. "People are cutting down on water, coffee or side dishes. The numbers are slightly less."
Even membership of gentlemen's clubs is going down, says local club secretary Tim Boycott. "About 15 of 600 members have gone."
Meanwhile, the "credit cruncher" menu – egg and bacon bap with chips for £3.95 – at the Iron Duke on Avery Row has proved a winner. "It was the chef's idea," says pub manager Carol Palmer, adding that as many as 30 "credit crunchers" are sold on a Friday. "We've gained new people – it's very popular."
Sausage roll sales are on the up at the Little Granary, while salmon is down, says Charlie, the manager. "Before, you saw people offering to pay for the sandwiches of their colleagues."
People are also cutting down on drinks and cigarettes, but Monti Raj, who runs a local newsagent, says that "working-class people are less affected because we didn't borrow millions of pounds".
Sitting in his 7DaysCleaning van, Duda Picardo doesn't see it that way. "In business, you go up together, you go down together," says Picardo, manager of the small office-cleaning business.
He is outside a building that once housed a property company. As the company expanded, so did 7DaysCleaning. Now, after the collapse of his client, he is *waiting to get his vacuum cleaners and other material back. He claims unpaid bills of £76,000 for three months of work by 21 cleaners in seven buildings.
"It's not about the money – this is emotional," he says. "But I will survive. I need to work."
Hedge fund managers, smartly dressed residents and luxury shoppers used to fill the bars, terraces and restaurants on Lancashire Court, a small alleyway in the heart of Mayfair. But now, on a sunny spring day, the immaculately laid tables in this hidden part of central London are mostly empty.
The credit crunch has bitten into Mayfair, the area that European hedge fund managers chose to settle in, away from the large corporations and grey suits of the Square Mile and Canary Wharf. Attracted by riskier investments – and higher returns – young hedge fund professionals bought their trendy clothes in the area's upscale boutiques and lunched at restaurants such as Nobu, near Berkeley Square. Now the wealth seems to have evaporated.
"Hedge funds have done very badly out of this crisis," said Richard Snook, senior economist at the Centre of Economic and Business Research. "It's impossible to beat the market on a risk-free basis, and some were extremely leveraged."
Hedge fund's assets under management are likely to plunge to $1tn (£675bn) globally, down from about $2tn last year. Jobs have been lost and those who still keep them have toned down their spending. "We see the largesse and exuberance, and conspicuous consumption, wiped out," Snook said.
Financial services professionals, such as Oliver Westray, admit to eating sandwiches at their desks more often than they used to. "There's less going out with colleagues," he says. "You don't want to claim too much expenses. You can't get away with claiming as we did last year – half, if not less."
It's not just them. Each hedge fund manager may generate more than two jobs, Snook said. The City, for instance, generates an annual £13bn income for such businesses as office suppliers, cleaners, caterers and taxis, he said, adding that the credit crunch will cost the City about 20% of its 350,000 jobs. "It has a huge knock-down effect on the retail and leisure sectors and the housing market in London."
"We're finding it really bad," says Bijan Tabesh, looking around his empty men's clothing shop. He is holding a "credit crunch clearance sale" but says he will go bust in six months if business doesn't pick up.
With his fabric being imported from Italy, he is also facing higher costs because of the weak pound. "We almost collapsed three months ago – it's a struggle."
Itsu, a Japanese restaurant on Han*over Square, used to have long queues for £1.95 green bean pots and £6.95 sushi platters. Now it is half empty, with plenty of space to sit outside. (AtW's comment: this could have something to do with Po-210...)
"The average spend has come down," says Mario Markoras, manager of Hush, a restaurant in Lancashire Court. "People are cutting down on water, coffee or side dishes. The numbers are slightly less."
Even membership of gentlemen's clubs is going down, says local club secretary Tim Boycott. "About 15 of 600 members have gone."
Meanwhile, the "credit cruncher" menu – egg and bacon bap with chips for £3.95 – at the Iron Duke on Avery Row has proved a winner. "It was the chef's idea," says pub manager Carol Palmer, adding that as many as 30 "credit crunchers" are sold on a Friday. "We've gained new people – it's very popular."
Sausage roll sales are on the up at the Little Granary, while salmon is down, says Charlie, the manager. "Before, you saw people offering to pay for the sandwiches of their colleagues."
People are also cutting down on drinks and cigarettes, but Monti Raj, who runs a local newsagent, says that "working-class people are less affected because we didn't borrow millions of pounds".
Sitting in his 7DaysCleaning van, Duda Picardo doesn't see it that way. "In business, you go up together, you go down together," says Picardo, manager of the small office-cleaning business.
He is outside a building that once housed a property company. As the company expanded, so did 7DaysCleaning. Now, after the collapse of his client, he is *waiting to get his vacuum cleaners and other material back. He claims unpaid bills of £76,000 for three months of work by 21 cleaners in seven buildings.
"It's not about the money – this is emotional," he says. "But I will survive. I need to work."
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