Swan Room — A Girl's Guide to Drinking Alone

Nine Orchard Hotel, 54 Canal St at Orchard St, Chinatown

The Place: A swanky hotel bar in a converted bank building that’s my reprieve from the über trendy Dimes Square.

The Time: Thursday June 13, 7pm. I just had a great session with my therapist about going out and doing things that I wanna do, without necessarily having someone to go with. (Even your trusty drinking-alone-blogger needs encouragement to do things alone sometimes!) There’s this vegan Mexican place that I’ve been wanting to try, and as much as I love my boyfriend and friends, I do not have anyone in my life that I can convince to trek to Manhattan just for vegan tacos. After a delish visit to Jajaja Mexicana right outside the East Broadway F stop, I decide to find a chill spot to get a cocktail before hopping back on the train home.

But did you guys know that Dimes Square (a “microneighborhood” between Chinatown and the Lower East Side; it’s really technically a part of Chinatown though it feels much more like the LES) is actually NOT chill at all and is, in fact, A PARTY? I guess I knew this in theory, but walking around it is something else. There’s live music, people are spilling out onto the street from all the various bars, which on Google maps, are simply described as “wine bars” and that couldn’t be further from the truth, even if they serve wine. The streets are closed off for tons of outdoor tables, and while this is primo people watching, I’m not in the mood to be jostled around while standing at a bar, or to be given dirty looks by people who are ten years younger than me, thank you so much.

The Vibe: After walking every block of this “microneighborhood,” I find a spot where people are coming out, but no one seems to be heading in. Nice. I open the big iron doors and encounter a hostess in front of a backdrop of velvet curtains shielding the interior from immediate view. When I ask if there’s space for one at the bar, she says yes, then hesitates. “Will anyone be joining you?” I assure her that no, it’s just me. Then this poor girl looks at me with fear in her eyes and says, “If that changes, could you please let us know?” She’s clearly been scarred by people lying straight to her face and saying they’re alone, then having a gaggle of friends who just “happen to be nearby” invade the bar.

When she leads me in, it’s like I’m in an absolutely beautiful train station—everything is ornate and swanky. (I learn later that the entire hotel is in a restored century-old bank.) Massive chandeliers hang down from the soaring ceiling, there are cozy banquettes along the pink-marbled walls, big rounded windows that provide light but you can’t actually see out of them, and super-tall plants in appropriately-large vases. It really does feel like exactly what you want a hotel lobby bar to be. The dress code is definitely more business-casual than the wardrobe of the rest of the neighborhood, and the clientele is, too, and I am fully okay with that in this moment. I take a seat at the end of the small bar near the service station, and am grateful to be inside sitting at a lovely bar, away from the outside mayhem.

The Bartender: There are two manning the bar wearing the classic hotel bar uniform: a white button-down shirt. Also true to hotel form, there are SO MANY PEOPLE who work here. Not only am I near the service station for drinks, but I’m also near the kitchen, and a door that apparently leads to the rest of the hotel. I lose count of the employees when I get to 12, and this is not a big place. The music in here is fun, and I witness one server doing a fabulous dance to “I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls while waiting for his drinks to be ready.

The Drank: It’s a compact menu of house cocktails, wine and beer, bar snacks and caviar service (duh). Since I know I’m only here for one drink, I choose the Banana Sazerac ($21) made of rye, brown butter cognac, sherry, banana liqueur and absinthe, served in this delicate lil glass. It’s very tasty—both the brown butter and banana come through, but it still has the essence of a classic sazerac. Before I order it, though, I ask the bartender what it’s like, and he immediately says “it’s VERY BOOZY” as if he’s giving me a trigger warning. Ah yes, another hospitality worker who has obviously been burned by people being like “I want the banana one!” and are then promptly horrified when it’s not a frozen banana daiquiri. Before he wastes his breath explaining that a sazerac is a classic spirit-forward drink, I jump in and say “yeah I know, but what’s this drink like?” I don’t blame him, he’s just covering his bases…but at the same time, would he have said that if I was a dude? Methinks not.

Two other noteworthy takeaways: for the martini service (because of course there’s a martini service), they fill a giant golden swan bowl with crushed ice, accompanied by tiny bowls of various garnishes, and the martini is poured tableside out of a sterling silver kettle. This is really fun, I would be absolutely tickled if this came to my table as long as someone else was paying for it. (All cocktails are over $20 and the martini service is $110, so I guess you can do the math? But you’re obviously paying for more than just product. That golden swan slays.) However, I do have to say that a tray of bar snacks (chips, olives, nuts) is usually free at places this expensive. Here, the trio of snacks will set you back $18, which I find obnoxious. If you just GAVE me the snacks, I’d probably get another drink, ya dummies.

Was I Hit On?: No, I am left in peace with my Bananarac (or my Saze-nana!). When I’m close to leaving, a date sits down next to me. The guy puts his two phones and wallet out on the bar, looks around and says, “I can fuck with this.” Yes you can, sir. Yes you can.

Should You Drink Here Alone?: If you’re in the neighborhood and in need of a nice spot for a date, or a catch-up with friends, or a luxurious cocktail with yourself, or you want to impress your martini-drinking parents, Swan Room is a good choice. It’s a great place to get your old-New-York vibes on, so pinkies up, swans.