Jaguar Shoes
(Yes, pronounced jag-u-ar.)
Clearly the Pianos / Arlene's of the Shoreditch world, though actually, you know, nice. And cool. Far as I can tell the owners took over adjoining handbag / shoe shops in the East End and mushed them together to create a dark, brick-walled, 2-level bar with decent beer on tap and the music everyone should be listening to. Upstairs, there're loads of couches and hipsters smoking outside the plate-glass windows; downstairs is a cozy little dungeon with tables and benches lining the walls. Comfortable and chic at the same time--who'd've thunk it? And within only a few steps of the myriad bottom-of-Kingsland clubs (Catch, Herbal, On the Rocks, and all of Old Street.)
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Moustache Bar
Located at the intersection of Stoke Newington and Dalston, ten minutes from my house and thirty seconds from the scene mainstay Barden's Boudoir, the Moustache Bar is a brand-new basement bar under a Turkish barbershop. It's marked only by the sign above (and the word BAR to make sure people know it's not just a moustache, chillin'.) When we were outside, a man--Mr Moustache for short--was poaching the Barden's crowd with promises of a 2-level club, no cover, and free drinks. Why this was necessary, we have no idea. Descending the stairs feels like going into someone's basement, and to be honest, it seems like someone's basement in more ways than one. Mismatched chairs, a DJ playing the silliest 80s and 90s music, bartenders who told us not to worry about having the exact amount for drinks and who scolded us for not dancing. Oh, and the best part: we showed up at 2 in the morning and were there until around 4. (They close at 5 on weekends.) The two levels? Well, the top floor was a 'smoking terrace,' by that they mean fire escape packed with blase smoking hipsters. The women's bathroom doesn't lock. Half the people there looked incredibly fucked. No one could dance. It was glorious. We'll be back very, very soon.
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