![]() Its ’40s tiki décor is illuminated mostly by the ambient glow of neon. The Bikini Lounge, which sits at the crossroads of two arty downtown districts-Roosevelt Row and Grand Avenue-is a dive bar with a history: It opened in 1946, making it Phoenix’s oldest watering hole. An artist friend took me here, and we literally watched folks stumble in and out of the door. I’m sure the Lost Leaf actually has electricity, but you might not realize it. The Lost Leaf, in downtown’s Roosevelt Row neighborhood, is housed in a 1922 building with original hardwood floors and exposed-brick walls. Popular with off-duty bartenders and wait staff, the interiors are retro and unpretentious, with pool tables, a jukebox, and an old TV that silently loops classic and cultish movies. Located near the Arcadia district, Shady’s is the quintessential neighborhood bar. The downstairs lounge at Rokerij-the name means “smokehouse” in Dutch-features cool stone, dark wood, a copper-topped bar and lighting so dim you can’t always make out what you’re eating. There’s just enough light to play a game of tabletop Jenga or jot down answers on trivia nights. Its sister bar, the Linger Longer Lounge, is likewise lighthearted and lounge-y. Its Camelback location and classic décor-wood-paneling, subdued lighting, heavy glassware-is decidedly sexy and attracts a lot of suits and high-heeled gals.ĭarts, foosball and skeeball are part of the mix at The Little Woody, whose owl motif is a metaphor for the nocturnal atmosphere. Open since 1996, MercBar is an outpost of the original Soho New York cocktail lounge. So put away the sunscreen and belly up to the bar … assuming you can find it. What follows is by no means an exhaustive list, but it’s a good start. I recently consulted a few of my favorite Phoenix barflies to find out where they kick back during the dog days of summer. Friends still reverently mourn the Chez Nous, where the barely navigable darkness was said to be a function of the owner’s desire to protect regulars who were having affairs. So fond are Phoenicians of dark bars that when one bites the dust, the lamentations can last for years. Where happy hour starts at 3 o’clock.Īnd if it’s is kind of hard to find, well, that’s even better. Where you can hear the crackle of ice in your drink. Where the thermostat is set so low, the place feels like the ice cream aisle at the grocery store. ![]() I’m talking about the kind of bar where your eyes need a few seconds to adjust before you can make out the booths. On the contrary, summers in the Sonoran Desert flip the script, bringing long days filled with intense sunshine, and compelling us locals to stay indoors or adopt vampirish schedules.įor me, one of the best ways to escape Phoenix’s summer heat is to retreat inside a dark bar for a chilled beverage and some friendly conversation. Needless to say, we don’t have that problem in Phoenix. In Scandinavia, where winter days are short and the sun sets before 3 p.m., some people resort to light therapy to combat mood disorders brought on by the relentless darkness. Phoenix’s summer sunshine compels local barflies to step out of the light and into the darkness.
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