Okay, there’s an obnoxious cliché happening lately at bars all over town. An epidemic, really.
We’re talking about those places that all have obvious, accessible doors letting you inside.
You know, a challenge might be nice every now and then...
Behold the mysterious splendor of Lock & Key, a dapper speakeasy hidden behind a confounding wall covered in hundreds of doorknobs and locks—and just one of them actually opens the door—opening tonight.
So let’s talk about that getting-in part first. 1) Head to random patch of Koreatown. 2) Seek out grungy building with red door and to-go window selling fried-chicken sandwiches. 3) Get momentarily distracted by fried-chicken sandwiches. 4) Eat fried-chicken sandwich. 5) Then: enter red door.
Wow. This is unexpected. Suddenly, you’re in an incongruously handsome corridor, all Victorian and marble-y. And there’s that black wall, covered with rows and rows of knobs to try and keys to turn. Thankfully, there’s also a lovely hostess to do that part for you—and somebody thought to tell her which one does the trick.
And through the door: a cocktail Narnia. It’s a dark, intimate spot, lots of black and gold and green—and just a handful of little booths—so bring a date who likes a little mystery and some artichoke-accented cocktails. Also, helps if they’re not opposed to mirrored ceilings.
Which never hurts to find out.
We’re talking about those places that all have obvious, accessible doors letting you inside.
You know, a challenge might be nice every now and then...
Behold the mysterious splendor of Lock & Key, a dapper speakeasy hidden behind a confounding wall covered in hundreds of doorknobs and locks—and just one of them actually opens the door—opening tonight.
So let’s talk about that getting-in part first. 1) Head to random patch of Koreatown. 2) Seek out grungy building with red door and to-go window selling fried-chicken sandwiches. 3) Get momentarily distracted by fried-chicken sandwiches. 4) Eat fried-chicken sandwich. 5) Then: enter red door.
Wow. This is unexpected. Suddenly, you’re in an incongruously handsome corridor, all Victorian and marble-y. And there’s that black wall, covered with rows and rows of knobs to try and keys to turn. Thankfully, there’s also a lovely hostess to do that part for you—and somebody thought to tell her which one does the trick.
And through the door: a cocktail Narnia. It’s a dark, intimate spot, lots of black and gold and green—and just a handful of little booths—so bring a date who likes a little mystery and some artichoke-accented cocktails. Also, helps if they’re not opposed to mirrored ceilings.
Which never hurts to find out.
