Bars & lounges
The building spent eighty years as an icehouse, which left it two gifts: thick walls and no windows worth saving. We leaned into the dark. Horseshoe booths in oxblood velvet, a lamp with a pleated shade on every table, and a mirrored back wall that doubles the candle count without adding a single fixture.
The stage is small on purpose. Music here is part of the meal, not the point of the evening, and the sight lines are arranged so every booth can watch or ignore it with equal grace.
The kitchen wanted brighter service light; the dimmer schedule gives it to them until 5:45pm, then takes the room down to 2700K in four steps nobody notices.
