You remember those old film noir flicks.
The femmes fatales. The Pall Malls. The Humphrey Bogarts.
Well, that’s all a bar now...
Meet Noir Lounge, a dark, brooding hideaway of a nightspot brimming with all the wine-soaked, jazz-fueled potential you’d expect from a... dark, brooding hideaway of a nightspot, now soft-open on select nights (hint: one of those is tonight) on Hayes.
Start by taking someone to dinner somewhere. Eat food. Make merry. Do that thing you do where you’re all hilarious and charming. And then, when the time is right, say it: “I know a place.”
Fast-forward to the part where you’re at that place. Sitting at the bar. It’s got two of those, but you’re looking for the glowing one with the refurbished iron steam vent behind it. Suddenly, you’re ordering wine on tap and eating porcini-parmesan popcorn and talking about how great this is going.
So great, in fact, that a celebration may be in order. The kind that involves grabbing a 22-ounce mug of something Belgian and heading back to the curtained-off screening room (right... they’ll be screening old-school detective flicks back there) with bar snacks like Dr Pepper cotton candy.
Nothing says celebration like Dr Pepper on a stick.
The femmes fatales. The Pall Malls. The Humphrey Bogarts.
Well, that’s all a bar now...
Meet Noir Lounge, a dark, brooding hideaway of a nightspot brimming with all the wine-soaked, jazz-fueled potential you’d expect from a... dark, brooding hideaway of a nightspot, now soft-open on select nights (hint: one of those is tonight) on Hayes.
Start by taking someone to dinner somewhere. Eat food. Make merry. Do that thing you do where you’re all hilarious and charming. And then, when the time is right, say it: “I know a place.”
Fast-forward to the part where you’re at that place. Sitting at the bar. It’s got two of those, but you’re looking for the glowing one with the refurbished iron steam vent behind it. Suddenly, you’re ordering wine on tap and eating porcini-parmesan popcorn and talking about how great this is going.
So great, in fact, that a celebration may be in order. The kind that involves grabbing a 22-ounce mug of something Belgian and heading back to the curtained-off screening room (right... they’ll be screening old-school detective flicks back there) with bar snacks like Dr Pepper cotton candy.
Nothing says celebration like Dr Pepper on a stick.
