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After dark, opposite Tompkins Square Park’s northern border, a glowing barber pole twirls. Beyond, men draped with striped cloths indulge in a straight-razor shave or a haircut, plus a complimentary cocktail from the hidden bar in the back. “What’re we doing, my friend?” Nicky, a skinny dude in Vans, recently asked a shaggy patron, who replied, “High fade—a No. 2.” The Sweeney Ted—Jameson, lemon, honey, egg white, bitters—seemed too obvious a punch line, so he ordered the Smoke & Dagger, a concoction part manly (Jack Daniels, jalapeño) and part dandy (cucumber, lemon, ginger). “People pace back and forth for, like, twenty minutes, and they won’t ask and I won’t fucking tell them,” Nicky said about the bar’s clandestine entrance. Rose, a local character formerly employed at…
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The New Yorker (Digital) - 1 Issue, Oct-06-14