This Flatiron speakeasy combines the cocktail prowess of head bartender Meaghan Dorman with the styling of a sumptuous, slightly eccentric, Victorian townhouse topped off by some serious high-level service.
Ring the buzzer at the basement level to gain entry. Book Sundays to Tuesdays, after which it’s first come first serve (they’ll take your number and call when a table comes available). You'll be seated in the dimly lit lounge, furnished with Chesterfield sofas, trunks and a wood-burning fire or, if you want somewhere a bit discrete, ask for one of the deep banquettes in the parlour separated by black net curtains. Waiter service is summoned by a small electric buzzer next to each seat.
The bar was named after 19th century saloons, which got around the ban on Sunday drinking laws by disguising themselves as hotels. Naturally these places became dens of debauchery and prostitution, though you won’t find anything so uncouth here, apart from perhaps the karma sutra wallpaper in the bathrooms.