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happy #WomensEqualityDay ? pic.twitter.com/nIIaiYt5Ek
— Emma Gray (@emmaladyrose) August 26, 2016
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Barred: Seamstress
When: Roughly 8pm, Monday
I in no way think of Seamstress as a special occasion bar. It just happens that it was the best choice close to Tanoshi open on Christmas (where I ended up making out with an adult goth who thought I was a millennial because I up talk when everyone knows millennials vocal fry) and it now seemed liked a post-Tanoshi tradition, which is where I went for my birthday.
I was irrationally excited to see a butterfly pea flower cocktail, All the Way (vodka, butterfly pea flower, cherry, soda, lime, Peychauds) which seemed like a 4th of July holdover, red, white, and blue.
I was irrationally unexcited to hear the two women two years from 30 sitting next to me talk out loud (though neither particularly frying or upping their vocals). Apparently, they have a boring friend who’s a teacher in Saratoga Springs who wants to be an executive assistant but still has an AOL email (way boomer, no?) and texts photos of other friends’ babies. “It must be a stress on her to be independent,” said one who was also hoping she would be pregnant before another friend’s bachelorette party.
Was I carded: Not even close.
Age appropriate: Definitely. The crowd, particularly dining, is very mixed. The Upper East Side is fascinating that way. I was convinced a few years ago that that’s where all the great guys were hiding out like a bizarro Brooklyn, though I never really pursued that angle.
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Barred: Vander Bar
When: 4:24pm, Friday
I wouldn’t have even known about the existence of Vanderbar if I hadn’t stayed at the Roosevelt Hotel earlier this year. It’s just a generic sports-ish bar balding-but-not-old guys with wedding rings hit before heading home on Metro-North, and where the female bartenders pay far more attention to these men than the women sitting in front of them attempting to get service or pay a bill. It was hard to properly suss out the action because simply turning one’s head makes these men think you’re checking them out.
After becoming afraid to turn my head, I just had to eavesdrop on the threesome (two men, one woman who wasn’t drinking) next to me and try to deduce if the guy who said “I’m too old for this shit” also said he was 38 or 28. After discussing “being late bloomers” as in only recently starting to drink alcohol, I couldn’t take it anymore and gawked. Twenty-eight definitely.
Was I carded? No.
Age appropriate? It says a lot of you’re too old for this shit and you’re not even 30. But no, this is not an exclusive venue.
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Barred: The Churchill
When: 4:40pm, Friday
I ended up at The Churchill after drinking an expensive cocktail at Marta after discovering they no longer have a happy hour (I also discovered the cocktail wasn’t as expensive as it initially appeared as the restaurant is one of Danny Meyer’s latest to go tip inclusive). I wanted a beer no-fuss. At this hour, at least, it was very neighborhood-y, solidly middle-aged-plus.
I couldn’t help but butt into the conversation happening on my left after hearing “At my age, age-appropriate women don’t go out alone to bars.”
Then doubly-nosy, “Do you mind me asking how old you are?”
The 72-year-old who’d given up on meeting women in bars also turned out to have two daughters around my age, one 42, with a boyfriend in his early 30s. The more I parsed, the more I liked.
As is often the case, I stayed longer than intended and started discussing my long distance relationship with strangers who never ever think it’s a good idea and then I relay this to the other member of this long distance relationship because I’ve had too much to drink and that’s always an even worse idea. I’ll learn eventually.
Was I carded? No. I don’t think young people would try sneaking in here.
Age appropriate? For sure. Despite my big mouth, it was a fun early evening, and nice to talk to British couples in their 50s who come across as sensible just because they have an accent even if they might also be drunk
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Barred: Sweet Afton
When: 4:36, Wednesday
I have been feeling jealous of Astoria over the summer since I’ve been getting to know it better now that I have a doctor in the neighborhood. Sure, all the things I’m craving are like Brooklyn-lite or Brooklyn 2009 (“young people know their pickles” my notes read) but living in a no good cheese or bread or cocktails zone can wear an aging person down.
Seeing a day-ish-drinking woman sitting alone, who was old enough to remember Jane Fonda workouts and Jamie Lee Curtis in Perfect made me happy. Though it turned out she was waiting for her niece and the bar was her choice. Once she arrived, they got a private table. Somehow that changed my perception.
Was I carded? No.
Age appropriate? In spirit, but barely in practice. I ended up having my 44th birthday here because it seemed chill, though.
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Barred: The Jar Bar
When: 5:22pm, Wednesday
Between the necessarily tough Irish bartender and the women at the end of the bar who were beyond even pretending to be young, one tan with short shorts, spaghetti straps, exposed midriff, and big silver crucifix necklace, her friend with pink hair, I loved The Jar Bar the second I walked in even though I was afraid I might get assaulted by the angry, stuttering man who took up residence right next to me and only required a few seconds to determine if he had Tourette’s and was beloved by all and I should be polite or drunk, damaged, and/or potentially dangerous.
“You’ve got 30 seconds to wrap this fucking conversation up,” the bartender said while calling him a cab.
“You are legally obliged to fuck off if I tell you to fuck off,” she added while he mumbled and sulked.
Because it’s Sunnyside you will hear a lot of accents and you will hear The Waterboys. Also, everyone smokes–there’s a patio out back.
Was I carded? Are you kidding?
Age appropriate? In spades. I’m not convinced there was anyone under 40 in the place.
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Barred: El Quijote
When: 5:30, Friday
Popped-up for a quickie gin and tonic pre-Olive Garden because who knows how much longer El Quijote will be around? Has there ever been a revamp that pleased old-timers and newcomers alike?
Older, dressed-up couple: “Can we have a booth? We came early.”
Maître’d: “Of course.”
Only two others were at the bar, including one woman, white hair pulled back and put together in a manner that can only be described as “smart.” Slim, pencil skirt, booties, she could’ve been 46 or 56. She didn’t eat her gratis tapa, a surprisingly good wedge of tortilla, or bread, which is, I suppose, how one maintains such straight, clean lines.
Was I carded? Nah
Age appropriate? That’s kind of the point.
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Barred: Austin’s Ale House
When: 3:35pm, Friday
There’s an undeniable truth that the farther you get from Manhattan and North Brooklyn, the more diverse the drinkers you find at ordinary bars. And they are done with work at 4pm. In fact, they are already drunk and loud at 3:30pm (never mind that you’re also in far out Queens on a weekday afternoon, beer in hand). Based on the wide range of age, gender, and ethnicities hanging out together in clusters at Austin’s Ale House, the only logical assumption can be coworkers. Me, I don’t socialize with workmates. Though I hear this is something regular people do.
Was I carded? Nuh uh.
Age appropriate? Yes, there were quite a few grown women, two solo, in fact.
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Screen Time: The Affair, Doll & Em, Transparent, Portlandia
From New York’s annual Best Of issue: Best 35th-Birthday Bar “Here’s a new one: ‘midlife millennial.’ That’s who Bryce David and his partners had in mind when they opened this bar and dance club, a spot for grown-ups who still want to rage but feel too old for the hangar-size dance bars like Output and Verboten.”
First off, no. Uh-uh. Millennials don’t get to start laying claim to middle age now too. I’m already bracing for an even Bigger Chill over the next decade.
Ok, just had to get that out of the way before playing catch up with some TV portrayals of elder women in bars.
The Affair: Helen is only drinking white wine alone in Brownstone Brooklyn because she got stood up by a Tinder date. “Tinder is more of a hookup site for millennials,” the server informs her, while suggesting Match.com because that’s where the divorcees hang out (hello, OurTime.com). It’s frightening to think I’d be roughly in the same dating pool as this character because I don’t look like Maura Tierney (51), own a home in Park Slope, or a housewares shop, and this probably goes a long way in explaining why I end up with 30 year olds with roommates not middle-aged salt-and-pepper drunk doctors, who hump you in the basement during a rainstorm while your kids are upstairs.
Doll & Em: I might say spoiler alert, but does anyone watch this? Plus, season two has been out since September. Keeping with the brownstone theme, Doll gets knocked-up by Ewan McGregor in the bathroom of what I’m pretty certain is Prime Meats. That’s all you need to know. Can 44-year-olds seriously get pregnant that easily? This is a legit question.
Transparent: I would say Maura (not to be confused with Tierney) is well past middle age yet the moment when one crosses into the next phase is a question I hope to not think about for at least another twenty years, sorry seniors. But still, she is a woman alone in a bar. Though because I’m apparently terrible at reading signals even on TV, I didn’t realize she was hitting on the harried attorney played by Sonya Walger (41) by buying her a glass of sancerre and suggesting tapas until reading a recap. The actress I always think of as Lost’s Penny (but also wives of a certain type in cable dramas a la Tell Me You Love Me and The Mind of the Married Man) could be the subject of a thinkpiece on the art of permanently looking 39. It’s kind of like Bernie Sanders superficially looking the same now as decades ago. Maybe you look a little too mature as a woman who’s only 30, but by the time you’re 50 you seem ageless.
Portlandia: Claire is how I’m afraid I’d appear if I moved back home in as much as I would be too uptight and rigid for a middle-aged manchild, but then I’d have to quit my NYC job to move to Portland and if anyone works there at all it’s service-oriented so I wouldn’t even be drinking pinot noir in a cream blazer, and this is all something I’ve given some real thought to lately because it’s possible that I’m over New York and what I’m doing here. So…the coworker’s boyfriend shows up and is all “Hi, are you ladies over 21?” and that’s a hoot.
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Barred: Acey Ducey’s
When: 5:54pm, Sunday
I have a ritual where I get a haircut in Kew Gardens, have a slice and a beer at Dani’s across the street then take the bus down Metropolitan to Forest Hills and have a drink or two at End of the Century Bar before drunk-shopping at Trader Joe’s, ending up with overflowing bags of things that sounded good at the time, then Lyft-ing home.
The tiki bar was closed so I stopped in Acey Ducey’s, technically not my first time because it’s where I had a pre-dinner drink at Sizzler when Sizzler still existed. It was all men mostly keeping to themselves minus a one in his 50s in a beige blazer who introduced himself to me as “The Spanish Dracula.”
At the same time, I heard someone say loudly “Fusilli Jerry” as Spanish Dracula was getting attention by holding up the side of his jacket over his face like it was vampire cape. Alice in Chains’ “The Rooster” started blaring, and that was my cue to drink up and get shopping.
Was I carded? I may have to drop this category at some point because no.
Age appropriate? For men. Maybe women too, though I was the only one there.