The Other Room
Friday, September 14, 2007
My last apartment in NYC was on Perry Street in the West Village - two doors down from The Other Room. It's the perfect neighborhood beer and wine bar. Most of the time you can find a place to sit - in the cozy back room on a sofa, a table in the front room or at the bar for a great chat with that evening's bartender. The crowd is always cool but never trendy and most of wine is about $8/glass. There's never any need to shout to have a conversation. It's the kind of place you go in NY when you actually want to spend time with the people you're with rather than "see and be seen". I ended up there for a glass of wine or a beer at least once a week and it sort of felt like an extension of my living room.
So when Stephanie suggested that we drive the 13.3 miles to Venice to go to dinner and then The Other Room, I felt a little twinge of nostalgia and thought, "Hey, at least after I get there I'll feel at home."
Umm. No. That is NOT the answer.
As we walked down Abbot Kinney, I immediately felt certain that there was some sort of mistake. But no. There was no mistake. There, behind a sea of people decked to the nines, was a sign just like the one on my old stomping grounds. The Other Room. I stood there staring for a moment assessing the situation. I assumed that there was an outdoor area considerably larger than the bench outside the NYC outpost and everyone was enjoying a glass of wine outside. I was about to cross the street when upon closer inspection, I saw the unspeakable. These people were not standing outside enjoying ANYTHING. They were standing outside because they had to - they were being kept out of the bar by a red velvet rope. Does this sound ANYTHING like the scene I've described on Perry Street??
I can't tell you anymore about The Other Room because, shockingly, we opted NOT to stand in line to go in. But if any of you have had the enjoyment of having a drink in ANY of these establishments in NYC (The Room in Soho and Another Room in Tribeca), please do not be fooled into thinking you will have the same experience on a Friday night in Venice. According to my friend Stacey, it's all those things at 5 PM on a Sunday evening before the sun goes down. Although it's quite possible that by putting that in print, I've now ruined it. (That's my own delusional hope that I have enough readers that they would actually FLOCK there on Sundays at 5...Hey - a girl can wish!) My point is, this ain't no New York experience...Same name. Different bar.
"Wait!" you say. "You didn't even go in Michelle! How can you say that?"
You tell ME the last time you had a mellow, relaxing evening that started out by waiting behind a red velvet rope among throngs of people. I rest my case.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 11:40 AM
Labels: food and drink
