Category: Nightlife

New York’s history is as dense and rich as the head on a good pint, but you don’t need to spend hours shuffling through some stuffy museum or wear out your shoes taking walking tours to find it. The history of any city is as entwined with the underworld as the mainstream culture, and some of the best places to find well-preserved windows into an older time are bars and pubs. From Fraunces Tavern downtown (where George Washington toasted the end of his presidency) to Chumley’s in the Village (the speakeasy where some of our greatest literary minds poisoned their livers), the Big Apple is chock full of historic watering holes. Although it may not be the oldest, McSorley’s Old Ale House holds a spot as one of the most unchanged, historically-significant, and most importantly, beloved bars in all of New York.

McSorley’s (according to their own accounts) opened in 1854, and though some historians dispute that date, it’s safe to say the place has been around for a long freaking time. Women were famously only allowed inside starting in 1970, which might explain why the women’s bathroom is so poorly labeled (listen for the shocked apologies issuing from the men’s room if you don’t believe me). McSorley’s is still a bit of a guy’s bar (expect to hear some gruff sports talk from the tie-wearing after-work crowd), but mixed-gender groups of friends make up much of the clientele these days. This is definitely a bar you want to bring pals to, otherwise you’ll be awfully lonely toasting to yourself amidst the raucous crowds. When you step up to the counter or order from your waiter, the first thing you should know is that the smallish beers here are served in pairs, so if you order three, prepare for six. The wee mugs of beer (two make for about a pint’s worth) come in only two varieties, McSorley’s Light and Dark, and both are perfectly palatable. Observing the servers’ mastery of the art of multiple-mug-holding is half the fun – you can place bets on how many glasses they’ll be able to carry in one trip.

If you come too late you’ll be lucky if you can find a spot to drink standing up, but if you can manage to secure a table in the crowded seating area, you’ll most likely end up making friends with your neighbors. Such close quarters, along with a large number of devoted regulars (who, by the way, swear by Monday nights as the best time to come here), make for a vibrant community atmosphere that is hard to find in any bar, much less one with so much history. Speaking of which, one of the only downfalls of such a crowded atmosphere is that you sometimes feel awkward reading over people’s shoulders, and that’s a shame when there’s so much worth reading on McSorley’s walls. You’ll find framed newspaper clippings and photographs commemorating visits by luminaries the likes of Abraham Lincoln, as well as moments from the bar’s, and the city’s history. Faded images speak of New York’s wild west past, when McSorley’s looked more like an outlaw-filled Texas saloon than a New York pub.

McSorley’s greatest asset is how little has changed there over the years, from the sawdust on the floors, to the old wooden kegs outside, to the friendly cat that’s known to leap onto your table at unexpected moments (though he might’ve come on the scene somewhat later than 1854). Even the simple bar foods like liverwurst sandwiches and saltines with cheese, mustard, and onions go unchanged with time – no coconut shrimp or cheeseburger spring rolls here. No, McSorley’s sticks with what works, namely, good beer and good people, and that’s the kind of tradition New Yorkers are happy to get behind.

We Americans can claim talent and often superiority in a variety of pursuits these days, but when it comes to drinking, Ireland still put us to shame. At least we still have better breakfast. But you don’t need an airline ticket to visit this magical land of drinking – just a liver of steel and a high tolerance for slurred singalongs. Thanks to their customers’ natural talent for holding the hooch, as well as a rich history in NYC, the Irish bar has become near-synonymous with tying one on in the Big Apple. So whether you’re as Irish as a whiskey-soaked potato, or whether you don’t know your soda bread from shortbread, these three East Village bars will give you a taste of the Emerald Isle without having to leave the Isle of Manhattan.

Bull McCabe's

Irish eyes are smiling at this St. Mark’s Place institution, where the standard 1-2 punch of cheap beer and Jäger shots will leave you with a hangover and a lot of fun (but fuzzy) memories. The spacious garden, complete with a crumbling airplane, is one of the sweetest spots in the neighborhood for a drunken summer evening. The crowd is a crazy mix of employees from the local shops and restaurants, wee NYU kids with low tolerances, and hard-drinking Irish nationals looking for a taste of home. Add to that that the ever-friendly bartenders know the value of the occasional free shot to good customers, and you’ve got the makings of some excellent Gaelic gallivanting. Oh, and did I mention they have a beer bong?

Finnerty's Irish Pub

Even though its old location in a cavern-like basement on 3rd Avenue was far superior and a lot less generic-looking, the beloved Finnerty’s Irish Pub has managed to preserve much of its dive bar charm in the move to its new 2nd Avenue digs. This isn’t a bar for discerning cocktail-sippers; the standard order is a Tall Boy of PBR and a shot of whiskey (for $6, not a bad deal). If you come with friends who don’t mind Budweiser and plastic cups, the pitchers are the way to go (plus, you can usually count on a buyback every three or four rounds). Besides the cheap beer and some seriously enormous well drinks, Finnerty’s is pretty basic; diversions include a pool table, foosball, decent digital jukebox, and of course, Erotic Photo Hunt. But the super-nice staff and funny sodden regulars, as well as one hell of a St. Patrick’s Day celebration, make this place a neighborhood treasure.

Ryan's Irish Pub

Ryan’s Irish Pub (which is owned by the same people as neighbor The Thirsty Scholar and the aforementioned Bull McCabe’s) is, like most Irish bars in New York, a tad overpriced and a little too sports-bar-ish for my usual taste. However, when you come in the afternoon, before the frat crowd settles in, there are few better places to sit and hash out your day with the bartender over a pint or three. The bartenders are often Irish and always fun to talk to, and they’re usually happy to take requests for the iPod sound system. Or you can always come with friends and stake out a table on the outdoor patio, which fills up fast during the warmer months. If you stay for dinner, stick with the authentic Irish and British food, like Bangers and Mash (my favorite) and Shepherd’s Pie – nothing soaks up Guinness quite like gravy-soaked meat and potatoes.

College bars (especially of the dive variety) are great because the crowds there focus on what's important – getting wasted, and fast. No pretention, just sloppy, loud people who can't hold their liquor. There's never a shortage of overplayed Top 40 on the jukebox, and there's always a sick girl in the bathroom with her friends holding back her hair. Those were the days, all right.

When it comes to college bars in the Big Apple, you need look no further than the vicinity of New York University in bohemian Greenwich Village, where cheap drink specials draw fake ID-toting freshmen like flies to a pile of garbage bags on a New York street corner. The following are three of the best time-tested dives in the NYU area, all of them perfect for a wild night out with friends. Grab your letterman jacket and pop a few Chasers, because you're about to go back to school.

Grassroots Tavern
The age-worn wooden floors in this historic basement bar have been trodden upon by artists, writers, and scores of naïve students over the years, not to mention a handful of jaded cats and dogs who strut around like they own the place. Some come for the cheap pitchers and popcorn, some for the dart tournaments, some for the company of the amusingly no-nonsense bartender and sodden regulars, but everyone leaves happy. Between rounds, take note of the old pressed-tin ceiling, heavy wooden bar, and other charming Old New York details. Just don't bother the cats when they're sleeping – trust me.

Bar None
Bar None is the kind of place where you always go in for one drink and end up staying for four. Perhaps it's the fact that they offer the self-proclaimed longest happy hour in New York (11am to 8pm every day), where $4 will get you a well drink or a pint of better draft beer ($3 for boring Bud and Bud Lite). Newcomers are mystified by the incessant pounding on the ceiling, which actually comes from a karate class that meets upstairs. The place turns into a dance party late at night, but the afternoon is the time to come, when you can chat up the tough-looking but super-friendly bartender and his son, and/or enjoy an episode of "Cash Cab" with them. And honestly, you stop noticing the karate class after a while. It's like the stench in New Jersey that way.

Josie Woods Pub
This deliciously 70s-looking stone-and-wood basement bar is in the dead center of the NYU campus, so there's never a shortage of tipsy coeds to ogle. Cheap pitchers of beer and decent bar food make up the offerings here, doled out by a genuinely nice staff that always remembers your face, if not your name. The frat guys and ditzy girls that pack the bar on weekends can get annoying, so come after work if you prefer a laid-back atmosphere and access to the pool tables and the MegaTouch. Although there's something to be said for the spectacle caused by dozens of fresh-faced college kids reaching record blood alcohol levels at the same time. It's enough to make you want to sign up for classes all over again.

Sidecar is just the kind of medium-priced bistro that Park Slope is overloaded with, but its location at the southern end of the neighborhood makes it a welcome new hotspot nonetheless. As I’ve written before, the South Slope has come a long way, but it still suffers from a drastic shortage of quality bars and restaurants (at least according to gentrifying yuppie standards). From the outside, Sidecar looks like just another generic bar and grill, but inside it’s filled with cute old-fashioned touches like a pressed tin ceiling, heavy wooden booths and a long retro bar. The narrow nature of the space and the reddish lighting make it feel somewhat like a cross between a speakeasy and a train car, but whatever it’s supposed to be, it’s a nice looking place.

You’ll probably want to start with one of their signature drinks, like the Ramos Fizz (with gin, lemon, egg white, cream and orange flower water, $9) or the eponymous Sidecar (with cognac, Cointreau and lemon, $8). They’ll delight your taste buds and get you tipsy before you’re even done figuring out what to eat. The small menu represents an appealing cross section of international influences, from French to Vietnamese to Mexican, all with modern American touches. The prices are reasonable enough that you can order a couple of courses, and I recommend pretty much all of the appetizers. My favorite is the white bean dip with tortilla chips for a reasonable $6 (add delicious bacon for $2), but if you’re into pate, the Chicken Liver Pate appetizer (with apples, currants, shallots, brandy, port and cream, served with toast points) is a steal at $7. The entrée I’ve found the most intriguing is the Bahn-De (a Vietnamese sandwich with grilled pork chops, pâté, carrots, cucumbers, cilantro and mayonnaise on a fresh baguette, $11). You can order it spicy or not, but I highly recommend the spicier option. The shot glass full of oily green sauce that accompanies the overstuffed sandwich is like a magical shot of spicy deliciousness, and once you pour it on, there’s no non-sloppy way to go about eating this thing. Just dig in and save your napkins for the end.

The food is all well and good, but surprisingly (for this neighborhood), the service is even better. The friendly servers and managers are always quick to offer a free drink for inconveniences like asking you to move tables to make room for a big party, or when the kitchen is backed up on a busy night. Food and drinks aside, that’s what will keep me coming back and bringing my friends. Even if it makes me a heartless gentrifying yuppie.

When I’m in the East Village and I’m looking for a place to really get crazy, Saturday night style, the first place I usually think of is Karma, the two-level bar and hookah lounge that has been intoxicating NYU students for years. Karma serves delicious and innovative cocktails and a decent selection of draft beers, though they sometimes mix their drinks a bit weak. The downstairs bar is more guilty of this slight (possibly because they assume the people dancing are already drunk), and the service is somewhat less attentive there, so I’d recommend you order your drinks at the upstairs bar. Regardless, the bartenders and staff, upstairs and downstairs, are always pleasant and enthusiastic, and their personable nature is a refreshing change from the cold treatment you usually get at hip lounges. Draft beers average $5-6 dollars, and mixed drinks approach $10, so be sure to take advantage of drink specials during happy hour, from 1-8pm, 7 days a week.

Hookahs are the real life of the party at Karma, however. For the uninitiated, hookahs are large, ornate water pipes with a rich cultural tradition dating back thousands of years, and they’re fun to smoke. The pipes are loaded with Shisha, a type of flavor-infused pipe tobacco, and you suck the tasty, water-cooled smoke through tubes, usually without inhaling. Hookahs create a fun communal mood and even non-smokers often enjoy a few relatively harmless puffs. The hookahs are a bit overpriced ($16 each), especially since the staff uses fast-burning coals and charge you for an extra coal. But it’s rare to find a good place to smoke a hookah anymore, and they have a lot of good Shisha flavors (my favorites are Apple and Strawberry). The hookahs are in keeping with Karma’s desert oasis theme, which is indicated in the decorations with palm trees, draped tapestries and warm red lighting, as well as the eclectic antique furniture which speaks of colonial times.

While you puff away, contemplating the essence of life, take a look at the often excellent artwork on the walls, which is the work of underground artists from the area. Don’t linger too long in this peaceful state, however, because Karma’s downstairs parties are almost as much of a trademark as their hookahs. There is pretty much always dancing on the lower level, though technically the customers are merely performing, hence the tiny stage at the end of the room (to keep within the limits of the ridiculous and outdated Cabaret Law). Occasionally you may be asked to move your dancing up onto the stage for this reason. It’s kind of annoying, but it makes it all the more ridiculous and fun attempting to follow these obscure rules while getting cheesed. The downstairs level of Karma is a great place for a big group of friends – people are always hosting parties there (me included), for birthdays, bachelorette parties, or any kind of celebration, really.

A word of warning: Karma is one of the few places in New York that still allows smoking, and people sure do take advantage, to such an extent that sensitive non-smokers may find Karma’s interior unpleasant. But since I spent my early bargoing years in Tucson, pre-smoking ban, inhaling massive plumes of secondhand smoke from the chain-smoking regulars, smoky bars now make me feel more nostalgic than annoyed. An air purification system is supposedly at work to combat the effects of the smoke, but it doesn’t seem to help much, especially on the lower level. Also the DJs often suck, but that’s a problem common to a lot of bars and lounges, and they do allow a lot more fun audience participation, which can be good (when you’re the one singing and dancing onstage) and bad (when anyone else is).

All in all, Karma may not be the swankiest lounge in New York, nor the best place to go dancing, nor the best hookah bar, but it benefits from having a little of everything. And after you’ve had a couple of drinks and a few puffs on the hookah, it’ll seem like the Ivy.

A lot of the cooler bars in Park Slope are clustered in the North end, but with Commonwealth on their side, South Slopers can proudly lay claim to one of the best. Even Manhattanites, with all the options available to them on that most accommodating of isles, will cross the bridge for a night of debauchery, Commonwealth-style.

Why, you may ask, does Commonwealth continue to draw in tipplers from around the five boroughs? For one thing, the patio is awesome, with its giant umbrella which has to be seen to be believed. Smokers congregate out there and engage in intense conversations that often end up sucking in nearby tables, and a unique community atmosphere is born. Or perhaps it’s the unusually excellent jukebox, or the endlessly entertaining “Brutally Honest Personal Ads,” which allow angry young hipsters to vent their frustrations in clever satires on the standard personal ad, all under the watchful eye of a weirdly appropriate mugshot of a disheveled Nick Nolte. Some of the constantly changing ads are real calls for guff-free romance, and some are just for entertainment and/or enlightenment, but all are good for a laugh.

Another thing that keeps people coming back is the interesting selection of specialty mixed drinks (all worth a taste), though I am more of a beer person, and I have no complaints as far as the draft selection goes. I dropped in with my boyfriend the other night, as we often do on date nights, due to both the closeness of the bar and the comfortable atmosphere. Unlike many Park Slope bars, it doesn’t get so loud you resort to screaming your voice away just to order a drink, and you can usually snag a table if you are willing to hover over a departing party for ten minutes or so. We managed to pounce on a tiny table in the back of the bar, and while we tipped back a few rounds of Sierra Nevadas (our mutual favorite), we were again reminded of all the reasons we like this bar.

You can order a drink without getting attitude back from the bartender or the clientele (sadly, rare in a lot of hipper Brooklyn bars), take your time drinking it without being hassled, you won’t be hit on by skeezy greasy guys or drunken club girls, and most importantly, when you overhear the conversations of the tables next to you, they’re often interesting and intelligent. Part of this is due to the fact that Commonwealth attracts a fairly diverse crowd: old and young, rich and poor, professors and busboys all share tables and cigarettes here. It’s not unusual to come in on a weekday afternoon and find the bartender deeply in conversation with middle-aged, well-off regulars and authors scribbling away at their poems and manuscripts. It’s this old world, university bar sort of feeling that I feel when I’m on my third drink, feeling half-cheesed, and delighting in a snippet of overheard debate on the merits of Proust or Ionesco. Call it pretension if you must, but sometimes you need a little PBS in your diet.

As it is, at its most basic level, an unapologetic sports bar, Park Slope's 200 Fifth is ideal for nights when it’s just the guys, or anytime you’re with a big group of friends and need someplace that does double duty as a bar and eatery. The moment you walk in, you’re greeted by just scads of TVs blaring a constant rotation of sporting events. Like any good sports bar, they’re always willing to change the channel on the TV nearest you to your favorite team’s game, barring any objections from dissidents. The bar and restaurant are separated so as not to annoy each other, which is a plus when you were expecting a quiet dinner and unexpectedly showed up on a big game night, complete with roaring feedback from the bar crowd.

Standard bar fare is 200 Fifth’s bread and butter, so to speak, with ten (yes, ten) ounce burgers, fresh seafood and decent wings making up the majority of the dishes I saw flying off the line. But Chef Mendy’s menu includes some unique dishes that offer a bit more variety than yet another bar burger, however capably crafted. I recommend you start with the Saffron Mussel Ragout, which is topped with a crispy risotto cake, or the 200 Fifth Clams, which are a favorite of regulars. Entrées include everything from authentic, slow-smoked barbeque to pasta and more excellent seafood. Try the Trout Du Jour (I love that there’s a whole daily menu devoted to trout) or go all out and indulge in the 14 ounce New York steak. 200 Fifth’s brunch menu offers a pretty typical assortment of egg dishes and the like, but I feel strongly about pairing good brunch with good cocktails, and where better to ensure you’ll get a quality Bloody Mary than a freaking bar?

Speaking of booze (and I often am), I haven’t even gotten to the best part about 200 Fifth. They have not ten, not fifteen, but 40, count ‘em, 40 beers on tap. And with a deal offering a sampler of six 4.5-ounce beers on the menu, you can afford to experiment. Among the 40 draft beers, all available at the very reasonable price of $3.50 a pint, are Arrogant Bastard Ale (California), Monty Python's Holy grAIL (England), Victory Hop Devil (Pennsylvania), and one of my very favorites, Six Point Sweet Action (Brooklyn, NY). Call it Brooklyn pride or an affinity for the racy indie magazine of the same name, but I likes me some Sweet Action.

So whether you’re looking for a place to while away a few hours with your buddies after work, or planning a lengthy night of eating and drinking, you can’t really go wrong with a place like 200 Fifth. Sure, it’s generic, and you could find the same type of atmosphere at a TGI Friday’s if you were really desperate. But all of the things that people hate about big chains (impersonal service, high prices, obnoxious families everywhere), 200 Fifth avoids for the most part. If you’re looking for a precious hole in the wall that screams local character and would make your foodie friends jealous, this ain’t it. But if you’re just looking for some wings, some cheap beers and a few hours of reversion to your college days, look no further.

It was last summer, on one of those balmy evenings that makes you glad you live in a pedestrian town. I was walking up Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn, probably running an errand or going on a torta run at nearby Girasol Bakery, when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a new bar, right in my neighborhood! A neat-looking logo announced the place as Quarter Bar, and a quick glance in the window confirmed that the place was a classy new joint, the likes of which you’d find in Williamsburg or Manhattan. With the exception of a few newish places like Living Room, the bar options in my neighborhood are usually limited to the Tabern Salvadoreño down the street and a perpetually empty sports bar, so this was welcome news.

I gathered up my posse and headed over to Quarter Bar the next chance I got. The first thing we noticed is the remodeled interior, which is warm and wood-paneled, with tasteful antique accents lending an old timey feeling. That combined with the meat pies listed on the menu next to the pints give you the distinct sensation you’ve stepped into olde time London by mistake. The skillful bartender in residence seems to be the only person running the place, and on the rare occasions that I’ve seen someone else tending bar, he’s been sitting right across from them, having a drink. Now that’s dedication. But beyond dedication, it’s his craftsmanship that’s gained him fans and followers. The specialty drinks are the real draw at Quarter Bar for this reason, and the fact that they are made with quality ingredients (the Hot Buttered Rum doesn’t skimp on the real butter) and eschew the sickly-sweet, unlike a great number of bars. However, the above-average beer selection is a godsend for someone like me, for whom mixed drinks, although delicious, are basically a hangover in a glass.

We migrated to the back patio, which seems to usually be where the party is. Wooden benches, tables and chairs surround an oddly appropriate bathtub planter under the watchful eye of some poor neighbor’s back porch. The community atmosphere really gets going once the second round of 2-for-1 Happy Hour drinks sets in. People start bumming cigarettes, joining in each others’ conversations, sharing drunken advice and newspapers. One time a girl who was leaving even gave me her second drink, a towering Hefeweizen, which I was happy to accept. After the second beer or so, pies start appearing on the patrons’ tables. These small empanada-like delicacies are crafted with care by local baker Dub Pies, and are made in the style of New Zealand’s and Australia’s hugely popular bar food. I have to admit, I can’t think of a much better accompaniment to a cold beer.

After four beers and a couple trips to the jukebox, we left the bar with pockets still jingling, half-cheesed and ready for whatever the night had in store for us. What more can you ask from happy hour?

There are plenty of perfectly wonderful restaurants, bars and cafés in New York and the surrounding boroughs, but it is the rare establishment that can combine all three. That's why Bar Toto has been, and remains, a Park Slope mainstay. The mostly-Italian eatery is a great place to take your friends for a girls' night out, due to the place's lively café attitude, but it's an equally good date destination, with candlelit tables and ever-flowing wine making for a downright romantic setting. Most importantly, you can sit here for hours, over coffee, food, drinks and conversation, and in true Italian fashion, it won't be frowned upon by the wait staff.

The place has the appearance of a European sidewalk café from the outside, especially between April and September or so, when Bar Toto's outdoor seating becomes a hot commodity. The interior, with its pressed-tin ceiling and antique knick-knacks, feels like something straight out of 1960's Rome (if you ignore the lack of smoke clouds and Vespas parked outside). I always feel a bit like I've stumbled onto the set of an old movie when I come here, and indeed the location is often used for film shoots. The thing that stands out the most the first time you visit, however, is the seating arrangement. It still seems strange even after months of eating there, actually. They don't leave any room between the tables! When you're getting seated, you see, the waiter pulls out not your chair, but your table, and after one of you is seated, back the table goes, and you're locked in. Tables flying here and there, people awkwardly squirming out to use the bathroom…it all seems so impractical, and yet it works.

When gathering with friends and loved ones, I believe you should always start with an appetizer, and the House Antipasto ($10) is a time-tested crowd-pleaser in this regard. The complimentary flavors of the assorted cheeses, pickled vegetables and cured meats leave your hunger piqued and your senses tingling. Pay attention to the daily specials, because some of the best dishes I've tried at Bar Toto have been specials – a sign of good cooks at work. As far as entrées go, I particularly recommend the pasta dishes, which include the fantastic Penne with Peas and Prosciutto in Tomato Cream Sauce ($9). The restaurant's flatbread pizzas are topped in classic Italian style and are great for a light meal, but if you're really hungry, go for one of Bar Toto's special Panini Burgers. The Toto ($9) is the house Panini Burger, and comes grilled to order, topped with Gorgonzola cheese and red onion. The fries that accompany this and a number of other entrées are abnormally delicious, and would be fantastic alone as a snack with drinks (with a side of mayonnaise if you really want to do it up European-style).

Even if you dine elsewhere, you can stop by Bar Toto afterward for $3 drafts and well drinks at Reverse Happy Hour, which takes place seven nights a week from 11:00pm to 2:00am. Late-night Happy Hour is a tricky thing, though; by 2:00am, going to work the next day starts to seem a little more optional.

Drunken Discount Shopping in the South Slope

Ah, drunken thrift store shopping. It is truly one of the sweet pleasures of life, and one that couldn’t be more attainable, especially if you happen to live in the southern part of Brooklyn’s Park Slope. Sure, there are plenty of popular secondhand stores in Manhattan and Williamsburg, and many of them are convenient to bars and lounges, but few can claim to actually charge thrift store prices like Monk Thrift Shop. Alternately, few bars can claim to reside literally next door to a secondhand store, but Buttermilk is one of them.

Although there are many popular neighborhood bars in the South Slope, Buttermilk is always one of the first ones mentioned. It’s not that it offers anything particularly unique in its décor or the crowd that congregates there, but there’s something very comfortable about the place, something that makes you want to stay for another few drinks when you only intended to stop for one. Perhaps it’s the above-average jukebox, which is stocked with a mix of indie, punk, emo, 80’s dance rock, and other hipster favorites from throughout the decades. Cheap drink specials, Bloody Mary Sundays, and ever-changing theme nights keep things interesting, and you can always rely on the bartenders for an interesting conversation. Settle into one of the mismatched chairs and booths and kick back a few $2 Yuenglings, and soon you’ll be in the proper state of mind for combing the racks of cheap dresses next door.

Monk Thrift Shop is part of a popular chain that originated in Manhattan’s East Village. Cash-strapped students and starving artists have been stocking their wardrobe with finds from the store’s handful of locations for years, and it’s not hard to understand why. When I moved to New York from Tucson, I was an art school freshman with an addiction to used clothing, and the dearth of viable shopping options in Manhattan became apparent very quickly. Stores like Andy’s Cheepees were charging sixty bucks for collared shirts, and everything was pre-sorted for irony, taking all the fun out of the hunt. Even the Salvation Army, to my horror, was charging ten dollars for a pair of pants, a far cry from the fifty cents I was used to paying back home.

Monk may charge a little more than fifty cents (items average $5-20, and there is a dollar rack of clearance items by the entrance), but the atmosphere more than makes up for it. A far cry from the depressing gloom of the Salvation Army and Goodwill, Monk comes off as a charming boutique, its front window bursting with kitschy toys and antiques. My one complaint would be that the tiny store’s changing area leaves much to be desired, but after you’ve had a few, privacy becomes less of an issue, and I usually end up just trying things on over my clothes. Best of all, when you’re checking out, the friendly staff can always be counted on to strike up a conversation, no matter how incoherent you are, without passing judgment.

So bring along all the booze-loving fashion hounds in your life, and discover the joys of intoxicated clothes hunting. You’ll never shop sober again.