The information we’re about to part with is to be handled with the utmost of care.

Gingerly, even.

Because just on the other side of the two-day respite we call the weekend lies a very discreet, very surreptitious gathering.

And if you play your cards right (which you will), it will land you firmly in the clutches of some of the finest barmen in our fair city. Or to put it more eloquently...

One hell of an underground party scene.

Welcome to Scofflaw Mondays, an ongoing series of pop-up soirees conceived by a shadowy assemblage of (highly) disciplined cocktail alchemists, now gearing up for this Monday night.

First off, we’ve been sworn to a certain level of secrecy here. But what we can tell you is that the whole thing was masterminded by a couple of aptly pedigreed expat barkeeps (okay, so they’re nationally recognized) with a marked affinity for old-school cocktailery and Prohibition-era swagger.

So as you casually ease past the doorman at one of the last places you would normally do so (don’t worry, it’s your own private affair there on Mondays), you’ll follow the sounds of the live ’20s jazz quartet before finding yourself in a cloak-and-dagger conclave laced with Cohiba smoke and the bourbon-y waft of free-flowing Manhattans. 

But they also plan on mixing things up a bit. So don’t be surprised if your off-the-grid, throwback-style evening should not only change venues, but occasionally take on the likeness of, say, a modern-day LA or early ’80s New York.

We’re looking at you, Studio 54.