The Sun Goes Down and the World Goes Dancing
Somewhere in the depths of the Lower East Side, maybe on Norfolk and Essex, there is a bar that posed as a toy company during the Prohibition era. You have to enter past two huge men through an unmarked door. Drinks are served in tea cups; paisley upholstery lines the walls; Belle and Sebastion is playing in the background; the clientele is understated, by LES standards, and the lighting is muted. You can park yourself on a velvet settee and recall with friends at least six impossible things before midnight. If only I could remember the name of this cavernous spot, it would surely be my favorite bar in all of Manhattan and this wouldn’t look like a fabrication.