A members’ grooming club for the top of this city.

I — The proposition

Nowhere to go that is not a bar, an office, or home.

Bengaluru has more men earning more money than any city in India. It has given them nowhere to go that is not a bar, an office, or home — nowhere with a door that knows them, a chair kept back, and an hour that belongs to nobody else.

So we built one. Twenty-four hundred square feet in Indiranagar: eight barber chairs on the floor, four private grooming suites behind screens, and an open-air terrace on the roof. It is a grooming club, and it is also the room this city has been missing.

Two hundred and twenty members. Not two hundred and twenty-one. Nobody else gets in without one of them vouching.

2,400
Square feet: 8
Barber chairs: 4
Private suites: 220
Members, capped

Floor plan of the club: reception, eight stations, four suites, rooftop terrace

Indiranagar · 2,400 sq ft · Opening 2026

II — The rooms

Three rooms, and a different reason for each.

The house is arranged so that a member can spend twenty minutes here or an afternoon, and never has to say in advance which he intends. Each room answers a different hour of the week.

A hot-towel shave underway on the main floor

The Floor

Eight stations. Where you are known by name.

Walk in, hand over your coat, and take the chair that is already yours. The same barber, the same blade, the same order of things every time. No forms, no card machine at the end, no explaining what you want — it is on file, and so are you.

The Suites

Four screened alcoves. Ninety to one hundred and fifty minutes.

Behind the screens, time runs differently. A full ritual — cut, shave, facial, scalp — taken slowly, with the door closed and the telephone somewhere else. Book one when the week has been long, or when the evening ahead demands it.

III

The Terrace

Open-air rooftop. Cigars, coffee, conversation.

Above the noise of Indiranagar, an open roof with deep leather, a small bar and no music worth talking over. Come up after your chair, or come up for nothing at all. Some of the best things the club will do for you will happen here.

The film

Fifty-four seconds, from the street to the roof.

The door on a wet evening, the floor mid-shave, the suites behind their screens, and the terrace as the light goes. It plays only when you ask it to.

The terrace at dusk, from the house film

III — The membership

Three cards. Two hundred and twenty of them.

Fees are annual and quoted exclusive of taxes. Entitlements reset on the anniversary of joining. Guest passes are not transferable.

Membership is reserved. Legacy is earned.

IV — Selection

Not everyone is accepted.

The roster is capped at 220 and reviewed by the founding committee. We are building a room, not a customer list — the question is not whether you can afford it, but whether the room is better with you in it.

01
Nomination or application
Founding cohort members may apply directly. Thereafter, entry is by nomination from an existing member.
02
Established professional standing
Founder, partner, senior operator, or principal — someone whose time is genuinely scarce.
03
Presence in the city
You live or work within reach of Indiranagar and will actually use the room. We do not sell trophy memberships.
04
A conversation
Every applicant meets a member of the committee, in person or by video, for twenty minutes. There is no way to skip this.
05
The house rules
Discretion inside the club is absolute. No filming of other members. No business conducted at another member’s expense.

Applications are reviewed weekly. We decline more than we accept, and we do not explain our reasons.

V — The welcome box

What acceptance looks like.

A membership is a room and a chair. This is the part of it you can put in a drawer — sent once, to the address on your application, in the week the committee decides.

The welcome box, open: card, pouch, sealed letter, cologne, keyring, razor, token, matches and pocket square

Nine objects, in a box, hand-numbered to you.

It is sent once, when the committee says yes, and it arrives before you have sat in a chair. Everything in it carries the same number — the card, the keyring, the token — and that number is yours for as long as you hold the membership.

None of it is for sale. It cannot be bought, upgraded, or replaced on request, and there is no version of it for people who are not members.

01
The card
Matte black metal, gilt edge, engraved with your member number.
02
The pouch
Oxblood leather, hand-stitched, brass stud. Sized for the card and nothing else.
03
The letter
Letterpress on cotton paper, closed with a wax seal. Signed by the committee.
04
The cologne
Fifty millilitres of the house scent. Not sold; only given.
05
The keyring
Aged brass, stamped with your number. It opens nothing. That is rather the point.
06
The letter opener
A straight razor that never sharpens — brass and mother-of-pearl, for the desk.
07
The token
The monogram on one face, your number on the other. Buys the first drink upstairs.
08
The matches
Brass-cased, refillable. Kept for the terrace.
09
The pocket square
Oxblood silk, hand-rolled edge. The house colour, worn quietly.