You normally save them for moments of... victory. Umbrellas not lost. Peace accords successfully brokered. Tuesdays.
Oh look, today is Tuesday...
Introducing The Wall Street Humidor, a subterranean kingdom of supple leather and rich, intoxicating tobacco haze, complete with an air of learnedness, accepting members now.
First, membership: just a simple, 26-part handshake (kidding). Rent a locker in the duplex humidor to store those
You’re coming here to forget the world for several hours. It’s a secluded, warm expanse of tufted-leather daybeds with lots of stretching room and a firm BYO scotch policy (you can also have scotch delivered to you from the place across the street).
You’ll arrive at what looks like any other enormous cigar shop. Giant wooden Indian and all. Absorb this, then take an immediate right, down that unassuming stairway. Down there is your new home: tube amp sound system, member-stocked bookshelves, mounted animal horns and crucial Chinatown food-delivery adjacency (your definition of “home”).
Also: a hot piano. They’ll have themed events just about every month. Could be Brazilian cigars and samba. Could be a bourbon-soaked, New Orleans–themed, Tom Waitsian jazz fest with a giant vat of homemade gumbo.
And by could be, we mean will be.