Piccadilly


Also found in: Dictionary, Wikipedia.

Piccadilly

(pĭk'ədĭl`ē), street of the City of Westminster borough, London, England. Starting at Piccadilly Circus (London's center of traffic and amusement), it runs to Hyde Park Corner. The street is lined with shops, hotels, and clubs. The Albany, a club, was the residence of T. B. Macaulay, W. E. Gladstone, Edward Bulwer-Lytton, and George Canning.

Piccadilly

one of the main streets of London, running from Piccadilly Circus to Hyde Park Corner
References in classic literature ?
The seat Audrey had bought for him at the Piccadilly Theatre proved to be in the centre of the sixth row of stalls--practically a death-trap.
He walked up Piccadilly, dragging his club-foot, sombrely drunk, with rage and misery clawing at his heart.
No one was excited even when a fracas on the steps of a leading hotel in Piccadilly, in which he tried to horse-whip a prominent German musician upon some personal account, delayed his promised ascent.
From the Strand he crossed Trafalgar Square into Pall Mall, and up the Haymarket into Piccadilly.
One sad-eyed woman stumbled against him as he walked slowly up Piccadilly.
A few rays of fugitive sunshine were brightening Piccadilly when Geraldine and her escort left the Ritz.
Three men were together in a large and handsomely furnished sitting room of the Clarence Hotel, in Piccadilly.
Piccadilly was a stream of rapidly moving carriages, from which flashed furs and flowers and bright winter costumes.
Very little affected, to judge from her action, by this tender appeal, the lady was on the point of returning some angry reply, when Nicholas, raising his voice, asked his way to Piccadilly.
The surgeon having very expeditiously and dextrously finished his business, began to enquire in what part of the town the wounded man lodged; who answered, `That he was come to town that very morning; that his horse was at an inn in Piccadilly, and that he had no other lodging, and very little or no acquaintance in town.
Paul's, jingling rapidly by the strangers' entry of Fleet-Market, which, with Exeter 'Change, has now departed to the world of shadows--how they passed the White Bear in Piccadilly, and saw the dew rising up from the market-gardens of Knightsbridge--how Turnhamgreen, Brentwood, Bagshot, were passed--need not be told here.
I had turned into Piccadilly, one thick evening in the following November, when my guilty heart stood still at the sudden grip of a hand upon my arm.