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Barred: Spuyten Duyvil
When: 10:47pm, Saturday
What did I drink? Dieu du Ciel Revenante Smoked Porter, $9; Single Cut 18 Watt IPA, $6Nilsson. Destroyer. Man music for a beer bar that’s not really all that beer geeky. People, i.e. couples and groups, just go for the backyard seating.
I had written off the entire place when an hour or so in, a friend (a previously unmentioned 40-year-old–apparently, I know more neighborhood old-timers than I thought) clearly on a date, passed by my stool. She was with a visiting Italian gentleman in his early 30s, it turned out.
Apropos of nothing: If I ran a bar, I would put on Duran Duran’s Tiger Tiger as the let’s close this place down music. It would work as a dog whistle to the aged and a repellent to the cool. In other words, there would be no stragglers at 4am.
Age Appropriate? There’s nothing overtly inappropriate about Spuyten Duyvil…apart from the ages of 98% of the clientele. You could sip a beer unnoticed, no problem, unless you wanted to be noticed. Bringing a younger foreigner might be the only remedy.
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Barred: Roebling Tea Room
When: Tuesday, 9:29pm
What did I drink? One Manhattan (unsure of price)Despite the name (it put me off for quite some time) Roebling Tea Room is more restaurant than café. It’s not really a drinking establishment either, but there are a sufficient number of eaters and drinkers sitting on stools that the bar area is more than a holding pen.
There was a finance dude in a pristine ten-gallon hat and cowboy boots who insulted the bartender’s intelligence while thinking he was complimenting her beauty, then later slipped her his number (I think—hope—she wasn’t having any of it) which seems exactly what a 30-ish bro dressed like J.R. Ewing in Williamsburg would do.
The bar clientele was more motley than I’ve come to expect for the area, as if partially made up of lost walk-ins. Steely Dan, a persistent aural neighborhood presence, would seem to indicate a certain level of comfort for the older set, but the adult male in his 50s with thinning hair seemed out of place (he may have been a P.O.M., a.k.a. parent of a millennial). So too, the mid-30s gent with a leather jacket and dangly earring. That was more a matter of wrong decade than physical place, though.
Age appropriate? I really don’t know. My first instinct is a yes, though the masculine vibe, maybe not typical, further clouded the lack of grown women issue.
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Barred: Iona
When? Friday, 4:05pm
What did I drink? Mother’s Milk stout, $6; an indeterminate IPA bought for me (no, not by a stranger).I have discovered the secret to Williamsburg drinking for oldsters and it is as dependent on having nothing going on in the late afternoon as a poor unemployed millennial (or a twentysomething trust-funder, depending on your level of crotchety-ness). Ok, no secret, just start drinking earlier. Many neighborhood bars don’t open until 5pm while Iona, god bless them, starts serving at 1pm.
I may have been the first to set foot in the inviting backyard on a Friday, but the neighboring table was quickly filled by a Caitlin Moran-esque woman, but blonde and definitely over 40. She gave me the side-eye, surveying the early Friday scene, lamenting to her seltzer-drinking gray-templed male companion about the area “tourists, hipsters and college kids” who pay rent who knows how. One sounds like less of a crank with a British accent, it turns out.
That’s another truth: where there is a high foreign factor (as is the case at Iona) age is often less of a constraint. Also, smoking is de rigueur.
By the way, shit can go down at Iona. Just the year before last, a normally mellow mid-40s friend (he’s in a twee band, for crying out loud) got into a fist fight there. I did not witness this first-hand, but it sticks with me.
Age appropriate? Two beers later, still light out, and three-fourths of the bar, outside and in, were over 40. Sure, some were men with white pageboys, but a high ratio, nonetheless. Does everyone go home by 8pm? Do they disco nap and go back out later as I unwisely did? If you start at 4pm, don’t restart at 8:30pm.
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Barred: Rum House
When: Tuesday, 9:19pm
What did I drink? Old Overholt Manhattan and Old Fashioned, $14 each.For drinking, Times Square, despite all its tourist ills, is far more integrated than the upper quadrants of Brooklyn. Rum House runs the gamut: theater nerds, multicultural clusters of gay men, bowties, affected accents like when talkies were new, older American men in ripped European jeans with younger Russian women, beer-drinking couples in their 70s, piano players, Hotel Edison residents, a woman who looked like the 1968 Megan Draper wearing a dramatic brunette fall, and me, trying to mitigate the effects of my Bubba Gump Blue Hawaii with brown spirits.
If I wasn’t averse to spending more on drinks than my typical lunch, I’d be inclined to slip away from my desk midday for a pick me up.
You could look like this.
Or this. Either way.
Was I carded? No.
Age appropriate? Extremely. By far, the most 70+ crew yet. -
Barred: Tørst
When: Tuesday, 7:14pm
What did I drink? A Saison Darkly, $5 (small size) Even More Jesus, $11 (big size). I think there were actually three beers, but even in wine glass-sized servings, proofs approaching 12% can cause forgetfulness (I’d rather blame the alcohol than senility).
When I arrived at Tørst, I was pleased to see the friend I was meeting (41) had found another friend alone at the bar who seemed grown (4Ø, it turned out). But that was the end of that. Beer lures men, and the only other women were younger and better halves.
It could be the prices or maybe the seriousness of purpose or possibly the subtle demographic shift from 11211 to 11222, but the men were higher caliber than I’ve come to expect for the area. Probably still 90% under 40, but mature, no bros, no fedoras, even a suit or two.
This raised a conflict, however. When a third friend (41) showed up, she declared the bar age appropriate because of all the pool of men. (She had also gone on a sort of date with someone–younger, of course–affiliated with the establishment, so I should disregard her biased input.)
That wasn’t my original intent. Perhaps I’m more hardline than I realized because I meant these bar visits to test the climate for peers, fellow females in solidarity, and once again there weren’t really any. One obviously older woman came in, walked to the back, turned around and left. Maybe she was looking for someone she didn’t find, or maybe what she didn’t find was anyone like herself.
Was I carded? No. I may have to retire this criterion since only gross places seem to card and I’m committed to avoiding them.
Age appropriate? From the men with potential angle, yes. It also introduced the concept of Parents of Transplants. Tørst, it appears, is also appropriate for showing visiting elders the neighborhood, and jacked the age range up to 60something. -
Barred: OTB
When: Friday, 11pm on the dot.
What did I drink? Turkey Jerky (Redemption rye, Osocolis brandy, cinnamon sugar, Angostura bitters, Bittermen’s Tiki bitters) Two Hemingway daiquiris (maraschino and grapefruit juice makes the difference) which I’ve decided will be my spring drink if it ever becomes spring-like outside. $10, apiece.Old To Be here? Oblivious To Boundaries? On The Bench? Obviously Too Broken-down?
OTB proves that it’s possible to even make off track betting (RIP) Brooklyn old-timey. It also reminds me that I really need to get to that Aquaduct racino for a very different, mostly likely highly age-appropriate, experience.
What the bar could’ve looked like.The design includes a trio of antique rotary payphones that will make elders feel welcome while confounding digital natives (my favorite new coded job description phrase). The evening candle light (ours was snuffed out three times because I’m a blowhard–but it was promptly relit every time) is also kind to the older woman. That doesn’t mean you’ll see any, though.
As with Williamsburg generally (I swear, I’m branching out soon) a quick sweep of the room rarely turns up anyone obviously over 32. It’s the obvious aspect that’s making me start to wonder, though. I don’t think that I or most of my female friends look overtly 40+ (though stating that aloud is a sure sign of being Wurtzel-level delusional) so who is to say that I’m accurately pegging the ages of others?
Was I carded? No, OTB is semi-restaurant in nature.
Age appropriate? Yes, in that no one will pay attention to you one way or the other.Photo: Yana Paskova/New York Times
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Barred: Donna
When: Saturday, 5:46pm.
What did I drink? Daiquiri, Haunted House (Appleton Jamaican Rum, rye, Swedish punsch, ginger syrup, Angostura bitters) $7, 2 oz. Buffalo Trace, $9.Like Linda or Deborah, Donna is not a young person’s name (even The Donnas, once girl wonders, are now in their 30s). Donnas were teens in the ‘70s, like my aunt’s friend whom she met working at Winchell’s when I was in preschool and recently friended me on Facebook.
It may go without saying, but daytime drinking (weekends and furtive workplace slip-outs) is tailor made for the older set. And Donna, down low on Broadway near the Italian waterfront restaurant everyone knows about, but has never visited, is a perfect place to spend a few daylight hours. On Saturdays there are tacos. Before 7pm, even on weekends, there are discounted drinks, $7 instead of $10, which encouraged me to try the Haunted House, an iced alcoholic mishmash, a.k.a. hipster Long Island Ice Tea.
On the early side, there was a group of gay men visiting from Boston, possibly over 40 but well-preserved, a tan gentleman in a preppy v-neck sweater who had to be in his 50s with a decade-younger woman who had that darker eyebrow, blonde Argentine look, both polished. It was our group, though, celebrating at 41st birthday that raised the average age in the room. Seven out of ten were 40+ (and I was rude enough to ask the two attendees I’d never met before how old they were).
But beware, the Belle and Sebastian, Fleetwood Mac, Steely Dan (Peg!), all favorite soothers, give way after dark, and the sunny, leisurely atmosphere shifts with the arrival of a DJ. Stay too long, and it’s a standing room only scene for people who’ve never known anyone named Donna first-hand.
Was I carded? No doorman, no nonsense.
Age appropriate? To a point. -
Barred: The Mayflower
When: Saturday, 11:22pm
What did I drink? Manhattan, Velasco (mezcal, mint, sweet vermouth, maraschino) $10 each.So many Mays so suddenly: Mayfield, the Crown Heights restaurant, Maysville, the Flatiron’s Char no. 4 spinoff, and The Mayflower (sometimes referred to as Mayflower Social) the tiny pseudo-speakeasy behind Aita in Clinton Hill.
If you ask someone, even an area resident, if they’ve head of it, it’s likely the answer will be no. The 25-seater (five being little stools smooshed at the bar) doesn’t draw the masses, which is good because the slightly hidden (there is a sign, though there wasn’t one originally) bar isn’t much bigger than a typical NYC bedroom.
Clientele generally ranges from early 30s downward, and despite the Brooklyn address, the beardo factor is low-to-nonexistent, as happens the farther you stray from the L train. The fact that you can hear yourself speak over the music (Joanna Newsom, Hall and Oates) often means that there will be at least one table with an older (not old) couple. On a separate night, Jonathan Ames and a lady friend filled that quota.
I don’t think the real Jonathan Ames drinks–and certainly not white wine–does he?
Was I carded? No. Despite the small size, it can get a little hairy if more than one party wants drinks at the same time, so there’s no time for the bartender to ID check.
Age appropriate? Yes, but it tends to attract couples and groups of couples, so the odds of meeting strangers are slim.Photo credit: fuck yeah schwartzmans. Fuck yeah, I know I’m supposed to reblog, but I’m old school.
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Barred: Reynard
When: Monday, 8:29pm
What did I drink? Last Word (gin, chartreuse, maraschino, lime juice) $14I’m still not clear whether there is an S or not at the end Reynard since it’s spelled both ways on the Wythe Hotel’s website. I will stick with Reynard out of fear of sounding like the sort who says Nordstroms or Barnes & Nobles (Tim Hortons, however, is correct and always throws me off) even though I totally am that sort at my core. A business shouldn’t confuse old people like that.
The restaurant bar (not the rooftop lounge referenced in New York’s Eloise parody–I wouldn’t guess that anyone in that illustration is a day over 33, would you?) was a civilized place to be on a weeknight, further reinforcing the now obvious theory that weeknights trump weekends. The crowd mellowing in proportion to the price of a drink (clubs, excluded) is also a growing truth.
I have yet to touch on the viability of male patrons (which while not the main focus, is a subtext of this venture). Reynard is certainly no Arlington Club, though it wouldn’t have been completely out of line to strike up a conversation with the silver-streaked but not elderly gentlemen reading a book (because I’m bad at this, I didn’t even notice what he was reading–you would want to be careful about Proof of Heaven or similar) or the solo dining Asian man who gave off a food-knowledgeable vibe even though he was quiet (no, I’m not saying Chinese are mystical and/or wise).
Lest you get too comfortable with the adult atmosphere, a Girls billboard, kitty corner, looms out of the dark as you exit.
Was I carded? No, it’s a restaurant not a kegger. The doorman (not Irish or Irish-looking this time) was imposing enough to keep interlopers at bay.
Age Appropriate? Yes, plain and simple. -
Not quite 40, but at least two of the women (a ping ponger and bocce player) featured in The New York Times’ photo essay about the hidden talents of bar-goers were 35 and older.