December 16th Panic Room—02h00 You still open? Of course. Doors down lies a packed bar. It’s where I wanted to go. Before we were sidetracked by L’Etincelle. A caricatured overweight, black doorman hassles us. He reels us in after a drawn out moment. Loud music. Loud people. Dirty, dark bar. Leftovers from all the otherContinue reading “1.5 The Blue Notes–Panic Room”
‘My umbrella, it’s my prized possession,’ he starts. ‘It gives me a look of sophistication and it protects me from rain.’
December 15th Le Cinquante—h0030 Down Rue de Lancry we walk. A car passes. People hover outside of a bar. People always hover outside of this bar. We enter. Foggy. Cramped. Everyone’s dressed in black. Bunch of late to the party beatniks, Hip boys and girls, probably design majors, who now work at bars and coffeeContinue reading “1.2 The Blue Notes – Le Cinquante”
December 2018 There’s a reason that Parisians stay hush-hush about the panorama at the top of Belleville Parc. ‘Go to Montmartre,’ they’ll say. Setting. Red, neon words ‘Le President’ hang over the riffraff like a heavyweight championship belt. Beneath, Chinese Hanji are spangled in gold. Enter the chaotic intersection of Belleville station. It’s a littleContinue reading “The Bowtie’s Big Ass Guide to Every Neighbourhood of Paris: Belleville”
A One Night Look at Gravity Bar on December 1st, 2018.
While planted in a residential wasteland, this bar has defined its own terrain. Normally, cocktails lie in the 3rd, 10th, 11th, or 18th, and only in the 6th on this side of the river. With its location and its glassware, Solera is subverting expectations on two separate occasions.
Scene. Limpid water runs through, halving the quarter, with cafe’s, art galleries and bars on both banks. Bridges loop over Canal Saint Martin. Dangling limbs of deciduous trees and street art span down the length of the promenades. Narrow roads zigzag. Jagged corners cut from old stone buildings, and in between, long shadows, hidden passagesContinue reading “The Bowtie’s Big Ass Guide to Every Neighbourhood in Paris: Jacques Bonsergent”
The bar transcends the realms of a neighborhood staple and a cocktail bar on the world’s stage.
Branding in France distills down to three principles; is it cute, is it time-honored, or is it refined?
On a severely cold night in W14, under a typical red and white striped awning in St. Germain Des-Pres, we’d sat for drinks. Parisians with cigarettes fill straw chairs. Smoke, laughter, and light rain spills into the dark, cobblestone streets.