The Hottest Party Prince EVER
Harry’s response to the scolding seems to have been to choose his nightspots more carefully. Boujis, a grimy basement venue opposite the South Kensington tube station, is out of favor. These days the royal posse is likely to be found at Mahiki, a kitschy watering hole where one of the princes’ most loyal friends, Guy Pelly, serves as marketing manager. Mahiki’s trademark drink, the Treasure Chest, is a $200 concoction of brandy, peach liqueur, and champagne meant for a party of eight; Harry has been known to down one by himself in a single sitting. He has also become a regular at Azteca, where the royal party usually occupies a special box right under the DJ booth.

In a typical night out, reports a source, the princes start with dinner at a friend’s, then hit Mahiki, entering through the back door Goodfellas-style, backed by a fleet of bodyguards. Their friends have to make do with the front entrance, though a special password allows them to bypass the assembled plebeians and avoid the cover charge. (On a recent evening, the magic word was “mole.”)
Last spring, Harry mostly socialized with the Gloucestershire polo set he met during stays at Highgrove. “One night in March,” says a friend, “he partied so late he missed his class reunion at Eton the next day.”
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