The Kool-Aid Man.
Now there’s a guy who knew how to make an entrance.
So tonight, we ask you to follow his lead.
And walk straight through a wall.
Behold Bathtub Gin, an invisible-to-the-naked-eye cocktail lounge that’s sealed behind an unassuming coffee shop wall, discreetly and quietly opening tonight.
To find this place, you’ll first need to seek out a nearly microscopic Chelsea coffee shop (it’s the one with the mini bathtub in the window). Don’t let the perfectly frothed cappuccinos and incredibly lifelike (okay, they’re real) pastries fool you. This place is a front. Lurking just beneath the surface: a shadowy gin joint/jazz-playing safe house.
So you’ll come here when your thirst for a Negroni becomes insatiable or your recent dalliances have forced you out on the lam. Once inside, you’ll see a false wall with a red light above it. That’s your door. That’s where you make your scene. When the light’s illuminated, you may enter.
Life on the inside: exactly how you imagined it’d be... circa 1920. There’s a copper-colored ceiling, fringe-covered lamps, nailhead-tucked bar stools and—smack-dab in the center of the room—a glass-covered, claw-foot bathtub.
For now, you’ll use said tub to balance your gimlet and fried oysters, but rent the place for a private party, and they’ll let you take the top off.
Sometimes bathtubs just need to breathe.
Now there’s a guy who knew how to make an entrance.
So tonight, we ask you to follow his lead.
And walk straight through a wall.
Behold Bathtub Gin, an invisible-to-the-naked-eye cocktail lounge that’s sealed behind an unassuming coffee shop wall, discreetly and quietly opening tonight.
To find this place, you’ll first need to seek out a nearly microscopic Chelsea coffee shop (it’s the one with the mini bathtub in the window). Don’t let the perfectly frothed cappuccinos and incredibly lifelike (okay, they’re real) pastries fool you. This place is a front. Lurking just beneath the surface: a shadowy gin joint/jazz-playing safe house.
So you’ll come here when your thirst for a Negroni becomes insatiable or your recent dalliances have forced you out on the lam. Once inside, you’ll see a false wall with a red light above it. That’s your door. That’s where you make your scene. When the light’s illuminated, you may enter.
Life on the inside: exactly how you imagined it’d be... circa 1920. There’s a copper-colored ceiling, fringe-covered lamps, nailhead-tucked bar stools and—smack-dab in the center of the room—a glass-covered, claw-foot bathtub.
For now, you’ll use said tub to balance your gimlet and fried oysters, but rent the place for a private party, and they’ll let you take the top off.
Sometimes bathtubs just need to breathe.
