You know how sometimes you're out running a quick errand—you’re just popping out to “grab a new candle” because you swear your apartment is starting to smell like your roommate’s gym socks—and then suddenly you’re sipping an $18 cocktail made with something called “charred rosemary illusion” under a hidden neon sign behind a bookcase in Brooklyn?
Yeah. That happened.
A Little Bookstore Detour
It all started so innocently. I was wandering around Williamsburg after brunch (I had pancakes and a mimosa, thank you for asking), and I spotted this adorable little bookstore down a leafy side street that looked like it should be in a Nora Ephron movie. You know, the kind where Meg Ryan is probably going to buy an old cookbook and fall in love with the guy who accidently knocks over the display of vintage maps? That one.
Inside, it smelled like paper and cozy sweaters and espresso. I was in a total mood. I started flipping through a copy of Patti Smith’s “Just Kids” (don’t worry, I didn’t suddenly turn poetic—I just liked the cover) when I noticed someone subtly pushing a shelf.
Wait—what?
The Speakeasy Behind the Stories
At first, I thought it was maybe a secret staff room or like, where they keep the extra bookmarks. But nope—a section of the wall literally swung open to reveal what I can only describe as a dimly lit passage into what looked like an old-school library meets jazz club meets… Narnia?
Naturally, I followed. I mean, come on. If there’s anything I learned working at Ralph Lauren, it’s that a little mystery goes a long way with good lighting.
So next thing I know, I’m walking through a bookshelf, and I land inside a speakeasy. A real one. Or well, a Brooklyn version—which means it’s covered in velvet couches, string lights, and good-looking people sipping cocktails with big ice cubes.
What I Ordered (Because I Know You’ll Ask)
Since I was already living my best main-character energy life, I asked the bartender what to get. He had a tiny mustache and wore suspenders without irony, so I trusted him.
Here’s what I had:
- “The Book Thief”: A smoky mezcal situation with elderflower and a twist of burnt orange. I don’t even like mezcal. But this? This was a moment.
- Truffle popcorn on the side. Because this isn't your average movie theater… or bookstore… or bar, apparently.
Also, if you’re wondering: yes, they had a live jazz duo in the corner. Yes, someone read poetry into a vintage microphone at one point. And yes, I did accidentally start flirting with a guy I thought was the bartender but turned out to be the owner. His name was Theo. He wore a corduroy blazer in July. I am still processing that.
Things I Learned
- Always follow the suspicious wall.
- Brooklyn is full of secret magic, and I am not cool enough for most of it—but I can blend in if I wear large sunglasses and confidently say I’m “just here to recharge.”
- Bookstores with cocktails might just be my new love language.
“I came in for a paperback, I left with a strong buzz and a guy’s phone number saved as ‘Theo – weird blazer.’ New York, you slippery little minx, you did it again.”
So if you’re ever wandering around Williamsburg on a sleepy Sunday afternoon, keep your eyes open. That musty copy of Hemingway might just be hiding your next great evening.
Or at least your next really good cocktail.
xo,
Rachel 💋
