To make a Treasure Chest, you tip half a litre of vodka into awooden box full of juice, ice cubes, and chopped fruit. Then youpour in an entire bottle of champagne. At a Mayfair night-clubcalled Mahiki, punters drink the resulting mixture through longcommunal straws before trying not to fall over on the dance-floor.
Right now, the Treasure Chest is Britain's most notoriouscocktail, and not just because of its [pound]100 price tag. It hasachieved fame as the favourite tipple of Prince William and PrinceHarry, who in turn are London's most famous party animals. Mahiki, aPolynesian-themed boite near Berkeley Square is Wills and Harry'sfavourite night-club and therefore a prime stomping ground for themodern Sloane ranger.
If a social anthropologist were to descend the staircase thereone Thursday, which the club's owner Piers Adam describes as "ourbiggest Sloane night", he would find it packed to the rafters withsquare-jawed young versions of the heirs to our throne. They wearjeans, shirts and jumpers from Ralph Lauren, or Jack Wills, orAbercrombie and Fitch. They speak public school, with a smatteringof estuary. They work hard, play hard, and party even harder.
As, it seems, do the two princes. Take, for instance, the anticsof William, on the night his split from girlfriend Kate Middletonbecame public. Having strode across Mahiki's dancefloor shortlyafter midnight, he declared "I'm free!" before sitting a group offriends down at one of the rattan tables with the immortal words:"C'mon chaps, let's drink the menu!"
The incident was all over the next day's papers, which in turnsparked a minor trend in twentysomething toffs attempting to worktheir way through the dozen or so cocktails on the night-club's menu(it costs of roughly [pound]350 a head, but luckily most drinkersboast small trust funds in addition to their graduate incomes). Italso saw whole tribes of willowy girls descend on the venue hopingto snare the newly single future monarch. Such is the pulling powerof a young royal.
Little wonder, then, that Prince William and Prince Harry sufferfrom an image problem. If you believe what you read in the papers,they are little more than cocktail-swigging hellraisers, who havedevoted their early twenties to staggering up red carpets and pastvelvet ropes outside exotic venues in west London with names likeBoujis, or Mamalanji.
Every time their nocturnal antics are photographed, a minorbrouhaha ensues. Last Sunday, photos of Harry canoodling with fake-breasted barmaids from a nightspot in Calgary, where he is away(supposedly) on Army training, were on the front page of the News ofthe World. His reported question to one blonde - "are you wearingany underwear?" - sat uneasily next to news that the 150th Britishserviceman had just been killed in Iraq.
Yet a forensic examination of their lifestyles paints a lessstraightforward picture. At 24 and 22, William and Harry are in factonly occasional partygoers. However much they might enjoy night-clubs, William has actually been photographed visiting them justnine times this year; for Harry, the figure is a more modest eight.
This month, we are to be bombarded with further evidence for theprinces' defence. They have given two TV interviews to publicise theconcert being held on 1 July at Wembley Stadium to mark the tenthanniversary of Diana's death. One is with NBC's veteran news anchor,Matt Lauer, the other with the BBC's Fearne Cotton. Both were stagemanaged by their private secretary, Jamie Lowther-Pinkerton, andpress secretary, Paddy Harverson. NBC trailed highlights of the on-the-record interview on their internet site on Friday; the fulleffort will be screened tomorrow.
"You will see two grown-up men talking for the first time abouttheir childhood and their mother, and the real experiences of theiryoung adult life," I'm told. "If you watch it all the way through,you'll realise that it's the first time they've properly opened up.People will be surprised by how much they've grown up, and also bythe strength of brotherhood between them."
The aftermath of the Wembley concert will also see the stepping-up of their military career. William will complete his troop-leadertraining, and return to his regiment, the Blues and Royals, which ispart of the Household Cavalry. Harry, who is a coronet, or secondlieutenant in the same regiment, could be off to war.
Both will then be eased into minor royal duties, which will bearranged to compliment the official interests detailed on ClarenceHouse's internet site. William likes football and swimming, andsupports homeless and conservation charities; Harry's passions arerugby, polo, music and off-road motorbiking.
The princes' lives are therefore heavily com-partmentalised. On-the-record they are reflective and dutiful. Off-the-record they arestill young and occasionally prone to excess. In reality, for alltheir fame and fortune they remain enigmas: aloof, unknown, and moreor less unknowable.
"The princes have a friends bit of their lives, and a duty bit oftheir lives, and they keep the two completely separate," says theTatler editor Geordie Greig. "When they are in Palace mode, they areadvised and looked after by a bunch of quite clever middle-aged men,who are thinking about big issues of monarchy, and the future of thestate."
"They are also the most media-savvy generation of royals we'veever had. "They are very aware that what's said and shown can have ahuge resonance." Perhaps, then, the only way inside the princess'real lives is to peep behind the floppy fringes of their heavilyguarded social world.
The problem with trying to understand what makes William andHarry tick is that we already know too much. Like dotinggrandparents, we were shown photos of their first days at school, ortrips down log flumes at Thorpe Park during half term. We watchedtheir parents' marriage steadily disintegrate, and wept when theirchildhood ended forever on 31 August 1997, with the death of Diana,their mother, in a Paris underpass. Their youth has been a sort ofsoap-opera; such is the nature of royalty.
Received wisdom has it that William is quieter and more guardedthan his younger brother, who grew up unburdened by the pressure ofhaving to one day assume high office. William is also more academic,having gained a 2:1 in history of art from St Andrews University.Harry, who was in bottom sets at Eton, left with a "B" and a "D" atA-Level.
"People have often remarked on the difference between them," saysa senior Clarence House aide. "It is fair to say that, as with a lotof brothers, the elder is studious and thoughtful, and the youngeris looser and more outward-going. There is an element of that,though Harry has matured considerably since joining the Army."
A contemporary of both princes at Sandhurst adds: "Althougheveryone thinks of it as a finishing school for posh boys, Sandhurstis actually a melting pot. Only about 15 per cent of its intake comefrom public school, and they did themselves no harm by mixing withthe other 85 per cent, and showing they could be perfectly goodsoldiers."
Harry treats the Army as a career, and intends to spend as muchas a decade in the Blues and Royals, a light cavalry regiment thatspecialises in reconnaissance in Scimitar tanks. Though disappointedat having been prevented from serving in Basra, for securityreasons, he recently flew to Calgary for training, and is nowexpected to join a tour of Afghanistan.
William, who is currently training at Bovington in Dorset, has bycontrast been told (and happily accepts) that he will never serve onthe front line. Like his brother, and in a break from royaltradition, he draws an Army salary of around [pound]30,000. "Williamis a future king, and therefore head of the armed forces," says aroyal aide. "After the initial training, he will do a stint with theNavy and RAF. After that, he'll take up more royal duties. If we'rebeing really honest, he isn't as enamoured with Army life as hisbrother anyway."
Away from the workplace, William is also in a period of flux,having separated from his girlfriend of four years, Kate Middleton,earlier this year. Acquaintances say he has recently cut a strangelyuncomfortable figure.
"Say what you like about Harry, he's pretty straightforward,"says one. "The funny thing about William is he's actually ratherboorish. I've sat on tables at weddings with him, and he'll tellslightly sexist jokes, and then look embarrassed. He can be prettyawkward. Not as awkward as his dad, but he's inherited quite a lotof that."
Other acquaintances have suggested that splitting from Middletonmarked a sort of early midlife crisis. "William is not as self-confident as you'd think," says one. "Here is a guy who basicallyreached his physical peak at 16. Everyone fancied him, and it's beendownhill all the way since then." Harry, by contrast, has maturedwell. He boasts a bombshell girlfriend in the shape of Chelsy Davy,whose only fault is her father Charles's links to Robert Mugabe'sregime.
Though they will now divide free time between the Blues andRoyals HQs in Windsor and Knightsbridge, William and Harry neverreally relax under the bright lights of London. Home for them isactually around their father's country seat, Highgrove inGloucestershire. The local social circuit revolves around pubs andrestaurants like the the Vine Tree at Norton, and Cat and Custard atShipton Moyne. It's very public school, and a lot of their teenagegirlfriends came from Westonbirt, which is just across the road fromHighgrove.
William drives a motorbike when in the country (he enjoys theanonymnity of being under a helmet) and both Princes are fastidiousabout paying their way in local hostelries.
"There's a polo set, and a hunting set, and they all interminglein Gloucestershire," says one local. "William and Harry also turn upat a lot of house parties, and although there will be a bodyguard,they can behave in a normal fashion. It's something they can'treally do anywhere in town."
The princes have spent much time at the Beaufort polo club, runby the former cavalry officer Simon Tomlinson and his wife, Clare.Their two sons, Luke and Mark, are close chums, as are the four sonsof Norfolk landowner Hugh Van Cutsem, together with a smattering ofheadline-prone Londoners such as Richard Branson's children, Hollyand Sam.
"I bumped into William in a pub once, and had a drink with him,"says the royal writer Penny Junor, author of The Firm, who livesnear to Highgrove. "He struck me as nice thoughtful person, and verygood fun. But obviously, he was very wary."
Both princes expect absolute loyalty from even minoracquaintances, and as a result tend to draw friends from families,schools and backgrounds that they can rely upon. Having often beenbetrayed in the press, they are said to rate people not according towhether they like them, but to whether they can trust them.
"Friends will simply not talk about them, not even to say nicethings," adds Junor. "I'm not sure how this has happened, and it'scertainly not co-ordinated. I think their friends just don't want tobe seen kissing and telling."
As a result, she says, they were both able to sow wild oatsduring their teenage years, doing normal adolescent things likedrinking, smoking and sex. "Harry, in particular, had girlsliterally queueing up at hunt balls and took full advantage. It'sbeen quite indiscriminate, but because of who the girls are and whatthey have to lose, nothing ever gets out."
In this respect, they are no different from royals of previousgenerations, though their indiscretions have been more public. "TheQueen had house parties and they had a hell of a time, but they werejust more discreet," says Robert Job-son, the Evening Standard'sinfluential royal correspondent.
"William and Harry are two single guys who are entitled to dowhat they like, and most people accept that. They enjoy it, and theone thing they have from Diana's legacy is that it has given them alot more freedom than other generations, and they've taken fulladvantage of it. Good luck to them."
Back in London, it's difficult to exaggerate the extent to whichWilliam and Harry's tastes influence the town's posh nighttimescene. Mahiki is part-owned by Guy Pelly, a former student at theRoyal Agricultural College, Cirencester, who is often described inprint as Prince Harry's "court jester", and was caught in the Newsof the World's drug "sting" on the prince during his teenage years.
Like all Sloane favourites, the club's prevailing atmosphere isfun rather than cool. "Toffs just want to have a laugh," saysMahiki's Piers Adam. "They want to take the piss out of each other.This place works because it's ironic. The bling crowd hate it. Theycome in and walk straight out again, because there's no smoke andmirrors, or Gucci and Prada."
Gucci and Prada would be an anathema to the princes. Their dress-code is scruffy and eclectic. "William and Harry's uniform comesfrom another age, and another cupboard," says the Sloane RangerHandbook author Peter York. "It's mysterious: not speed-one hyper-Sloane, not even speed-two Johnny-Boden-Sloane. It's somewhere tworungs back from that."
Dylan Jones, the editor of GQ, has included both princes on bothhis best and worst-dressed lists. "One issue I would raise is thatthey lean towards Mario Testino type of photography," he says. "Hetends towards the feminine and soft focus. I think they shouldharden themselves up. I would get David Bailey to do it."
A Bailey-type edginess prevails at London's most talked-aboutclub, Boujis. This basement venue in South Kensington has alsobecome a legendary fixture on the princes' social circuit, wherethey drink a shot called "crack baby" - a mixture of vodka, passion-fruit and champagne.
The club, which has a capacity of just 185, is full seven nightsa week, thanks in no small part to its royal patronage. Theprevailing atmosphere is of expensive debauchery, and its success isastounding. Boujis' parent company, Ignite, turned over [pound]15mlast year, and founder Matt Hermer expects to hit [pound]25m nextyear.
"There is no doubt that the royal connection has helped us," hesays. "Why do they come? Well, we have a reputation for not tippingoff the tabloids if someone is inside. We've never done that,because I don't see the point. We try to be a home from home, wherepeople can feel safe and comfortable."
Perhaps feeling safe and comfortable, especially when they've aTreasure Chest or Crack Baby in their hand, is all these twoenigmatic young princes ever really wanted.
Further reading Penny Junor's 'The Firm: the Troubled Life of theHouse of Windsor', is published by HarperCollins
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