Just as the gritty, cool, authentically care free and creative generation that made Shoreditch is now copied by empty, overly produced shells, so is the Princess of Shoreditch a try hard, mediocre place to eat.
Yeah, there's some nice fluorescent portraits, and everything is in the de rigueur shabby chic, muted style. But the food is crap. I mean, the sticky toffee pudding was great, granted. But I've pulled better things out of my own ars£$%$. My friend had this ravioli, which turned out to be this doughy, oversized, clumsy mess.
The roast was £15 quid, and I can get better for half the price around town. The bloody mary was appalling.
And Mischa Barton, darling, you desperately need a new colourist.
Blargh.
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