Having a whitey

Tulkinghorn's young scouts tell him that London discotheque Fabric used to be the venue of choice among the hip young dudes of the capital. Used to be, because recently it hosted a White & Case party full of suits. Not exactly cutting edge.
Anyway, Tulkinghorn's scouts overheard a conversation between the cloakroom attendants, who were clearly appalled at the events occuring on the floor beneath them:
Attendant A: “Have you seen the dancefloor down there? You could f****** skateboard around it, nobody's dancing.”
Attendant B: “They're lawyers; what do you expect?”
Attendant A: “Thing is, when they do start dancing, it's going to be like watching your dad dance at a wedding, innit?”
Tulkinghorn's scouts were also rather bemused at a team of rather attractive young ladies wandering around who seemed not to have found the cloakroom. Mysteriously, they were all clad in trilbys and raincoats, looking, believed Tulkinghorn's rather overexcitable scouts, like strippers. Apart from the fact that they didn't strip.
Perhaps they were there to serve as a window into White & Case managing partner Maurice Allen's psyche. If they were, then Tulkinghorn would rather not have known.