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Where once bars felt distinctively <\/span>one<\/span><\/i> thing\u2014a cluttered tiki bar, a low-lit dive, a commit-to-the-bit throwback\u2014walk into any number of trendy new spots and it\u2019ll feel more like a combination of choices united not by a theme, but a vibe. <\/span>More and more, bar interiors feel personal, combining elements that have been slowly collected over years with hard-working tools and furniture carefully selected for both form and function.<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n It\u2019s no surprise then, that today\u2019s \u201cit\u201d bars often feel more like a (fancy) house party than a night on the town. There are exceptions, of course\u2014revivals like <\/span>Le Veau d\u2019Or<\/span><\/a> in Manhattan, for instance, or London\u2019s Bauhaus-inspired <\/span>A Bar with Shapes for a Name<\/span><\/a>, <\/span>gesamtkunstwerk<\/span><\/a> spaces that exist in an atmosphere of their own, design-wise. But for bars that embody the here and now, there\u2019s a distinctly intimate, idiosyncratic vibe.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
Perhaps the best example of this is the recently opened Schmuck in Manhattan\u2019s East Village, with its Togo chairs, mushroom lamps<\/a> and terrazzo tabletops\u2014mainstays of home design for the past five years or so. Individually, none of these elements feels particularly fresh, but in the context of a bar, mixed with more industrial features like concrete walls and a stainless steel bartop, they take on a new sheen. The result is a space that\u2019s just the right level of aspirational, like the apartment of a friend with very good taste and an income to match.<\/span><\/p>\n
And, as in residential design, there\u2019s a lightness that runs through the interior of an \u201cit\u201d bar. That levity comes from materials like textured glass, the <\/span>lack of backbars<\/span><\/a> that break the wall between front and back of house, multiple points of light dotted throughout. For Moe <\/span>Aljaff, Schmuck\u2019s co-owner, this feeling rings true: <\/span>\u201cI think subconsciously we kind of designed it like a home,\u201d he says. That vision became clearer later in the process, when it came time to name the areas within the space\u2014one became the \u201cliving room,\u201d the other the \u201ckitchen table.\u201d Each has a distinct energy, defined by design choices like placing seating areas on different levels to give each corner its own little ambiance.<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n The <\/span>mi casa es su casa<\/span><\/i> feel isn\u2019t limited to physical accents\u2014it extends to programming, too. Instead of an LED screen flashing live TV, you might find a projector screening an old movie, like at <\/span>Ask for Janice<\/span><\/a> in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, or even a vintage TV playing a VHS tape, as at Yellow Rose in the East Village. Instead of a Spotify playlist, there\u2019s a vinyl collection, like at <\/span>Charis<\/span><\/a> in Chicago, <\/span>XO<\/span><\/a> in Kansas City, Missouri, and <\/span>48 Record Bar<\/span><\/a> in Philadelphia. All of this makes sense. Because if you want people to come, spend and stay a while, why not create a space that feels like their home, but better?<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n For the \u201cit\u201d bar of 2025, it\u2019s all in the details. At a time when a cocktail costs as much as an entr\u00e9e, differentiation is a solid concept. If you\u2019re going to go out for a drink, it\u2019s got to be worth it, the kind of thing you couldn\u2019t get anywhere else in a type of space that makes you want to leave your apartment. Despite the singularity of these newcomers, there\u2019s inevitably some overlap\u2014here\u2019s what you\u2019ll spot across some of the buzziest new (and newish) bars.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n
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