Okay, so here’s what happened…
I was on my way to meet my friend Monica (you know, professional chef, goddess of organization, lives to label things) for drinks somewhere in the West Village—and yes, before you ask, I still 100% rely on Google Maps to find my way around even after living here for years. But this time, my phone died. Just—dead. Like, no battery, no directions, no clue where I was. I may have panicked a little, but when you’re wearing heels in the West Village and you're one wrong turn away from ending up in the Hudson? You panic.
But you guys. Getting lost might have been the best thing to happen to me all day.
The Alley, the Candlelight, and a Hidden Door
So there I am, wandering past those gorgeous brownstones and wondering if I should just start going door-to-door asking for an outlet, when I spot this wrought iron gate next to what looked like an adorable little flower shop that was definitely closed (I peeked, obviously). Behind the gate? A brick alley. And, because I make questionable decisions when I haven’t had a cocktail, I walked down it.
On instinct, or maybe because I thought it might magically turn into a hidden shoe store, I pushed open a nondescript door with a little “X” etched into the wood. Immediate candlelight. Velvet. Jazz playing softly like it was being piped in from another decade. And just like that, I stepped straight into the 1920s.
The hostess (red lips, low bun, fabulous) gave me this conspiratorial little smile and asked, “Table for one?” And I was like, “Unless you already know a cute guy coming in that I don’t.”
She laughed. I laughed. It was a moment.
What to Drink When You’re Not Sure Where You Are
I sat at the bar (bar stools had backs! a miracle!) and ordered a Gin Fizz because it felt right—it had that whole Gatsby vibe, and also, it was that or something with scotch and let’s not pretend I’m that girl.
The bartender, Miles (tattoos, suspenders, devastatingly charming), gave me a knowing nod like he approved of my choice. There is NOTHING better than when a cute bartender validates your drink order, okay?
I also got truffle fries because obviously.
Here’s the thing about this place (I asked; it’s called “The Clover”), it’s not on Yelp. Not even on Instagram. They’re too cool for that. It’s one of those word-of-mouth situations. Very underground. Very “don’t tell too many people,” which of course makes me want to tell EVERYONE. But I’ll be semi-mysterious and just say: look for the flowers that aren’t real.
The Part Where I Meet a Guy Who Could Be My Ex… or Future?
So I’m halfway through my fries, listening to a guy with a saxophone play something that’s making me question every soundtrack I’ve ever downloaded, when I see him.
At first, I swear, I thought it was Ross. Like, straight-up paleontology conference Ross in glasses and a navy sweater. My actual soul hiccupped and I almost dropped a fry.
He sat down next to me and said, “First time here?”
I just blinked at him and said, “Have we… met before?” Not creepy! Not weird at all!
He laughed and was like, “I get that a lot.” Apparently his name’s Theo (British accent, bonus), he teaches philosophy at NYU (cue swoon), and he’s definitely into candles and jazz and reading old books for fun.
“I’m much more of a 'questions without answers' kind of guy,” he said.
Meanwhile, I’m like, “And I’m more of a 'can you tell if these boots are real suede’ kind of girl.” But somehow it worked.
We talked for like… an hour? Maybe more. And it had that soft, slow burn quality, like the first time I realized I liked coffee. Or when I finally figured out how to wear a turtleneck without looking like I was drowning.
So, What Did We Learn Today?
Getting lost is NOT always a disaster. Sometimes it’s a detour to something gorgeous.
Like:
- A secret bar hidden behind fake flowers.
- Cocktails that taste like a Billie Holiday song.
- A maybe-Ross who’s actually a Theo and might be a little dangerous for my heart.
I left the speakeasy with rosy cheeks (okay, blame the gin) and the kind of hopeful feeling you only get when the city gives you one of its hidden gems and says, “Here. This one’s just for you.”
And maybe… just maybe… I gave Theo my number.
(Okay, I definitely did.)
Let me know if you want me to try and find this place again—though part of me thinks it only appears when you really need it. Like magic. Or Chanel on sale.
Xoxo,
Rachel 💋
