I love people with a style, and love places with one, too. I’ve always wanted to be surrounded by people and places like that. Maybe not quite as much these days, but a part of me still longs for it.
There used to be a bar in my neighborhood that had exactly that kind of character. I only went a few times, but each visit left an impression. Every time, I tried a drink I’d never tasted before. The bar served a range of original cocktails, each named after a novel. It had a lovely atmosphere: people came to enjoy their unique drinks, catch up with friends and loved ones, or settle in with a book.
The space was just right—cosy, without feeling cramped or too spacious. The lighting was perfectly dim, and each table had its own little lamp you could switch on. BGM was something like old jazz played, rich piano notes, deep and warm sound of the upright bass.
I was glad to have a place like that in my neighborhood. A bar with its own personality could be one of those little signs that tells you that you chose the right neighborhood to settle in.
One day, I walked past and discovered it had closed the week before. Then I remembered a night when it had been unusually packed, as if a private event were taking place. It turned out to have been the bar’s final night, with its regulars gathering to say goodbye.
I imagine the place was full that evening of people who, like the bar itself, had a style all their own.
