Compare how the writers convey their attitudes to each bar and the people that
work there.
Source A: Charles Dickens writes about a ‘Gin-Shop’ in Sketches from Boz written in 1835.
The hum of many voices issues from that splendid gin-shop which forms the commencement of the two streets opposite; and the gay building with the fantastically ornamented parapet, the illuminated clock, the plate-glass windows surrounded by stucco rosettes, and its profusion of gas-lights in richly-gilt burners, is perfectly dazzling when contrasted with the darkness and dirt we have just left.
The interior is even gayer than the exterior. A bar of French-polished mahogany, elegantly carved, extends the whole width of the place; and there are two side-aisles of great casks, painted green and gold, enclosed within a light brass rail, and bearing such inscriptions, as “Old Tom, 549”; “Young Tom, 360”; “Samson, 1421”–the figures agreeing, we presume, with “gallons,” understand. Beyond the bar is a lofty and spacious saloon, full of the same enticing vessels, with a gallery running round it, equally well furnished. On the counter, in addition to the usual spirit apparatus, are two or three little baskets of cakes and biscuits, which are carefully secured at top with wicker-work, to prevent their contents being unlawfully abstracted. Behind it, are two showily-dressed damsels with large necklaces, dispensing the spirits and “compounds.” They are assisted by the ostensible proprietor of the concern, a stout, coarse fellow in a fur cap, put on very much on one side to give him a knowing air, and to display his sandy whiskers to the best advantage.
The young fellow in a brown coat and bright buttons, who, ushering in his two companions, and walking up to the bar in as careless a manner as if he had been used to green and gold ornaments all his life, winks at one of the young ladies with singular coolness, and calls for a ‘kervorten and a three-out- glass,’ just as if the place were his own. ‘Gin for you, sir?’ says the young lady when she has drawn it: carefully looking every way but the right one, to show that the wink had no effect upon her. ‘For me, Mary, my dear,’ replies the gentleman in brown. ‘My name an’t Mary as it happens,’ says the young girl, rather relaxing as she delivers the change. ‘Well, if it an’t, it ought to be,’ responds the irresistible one; ‘all the Marys as ever I see, was handsome gals.’
Source B: A review in The Telegraph by Orla Pentelow in 2018, titled ‘The Coral Room Bar’.
You’d be forgiven for thinking, when entering the newly renovated Coral Room bar at the Bloomsbury London, that you had walked into something out of a Wes Anderson film set. The new all-day dining restaurant and bar – once a simple lobby in the Sir Edward Lutyens-designed Grade II-listed building – is a cavernous, coral-coloured 2,100sq ft double-height space at the front of the hotel. Designer Martin Brudnizki has kept the original panelled walls, spruced up with the vivid colour which gives the space its moniker, but what really catches the eye is the central bar. A Calacatta marble counter atop a glossy wooden front with antique-style mirroring and brass hardware provides a grand backdrop around which everything else is. The overall effect is an impressive, genuinely beautiful room, that is simultaneously reminiscent of 1920s decadence and Miami art deco. It manages to be design-conscious, luxurious and yet inviting at the same time. I followed a glass of British fizz with one of the bar’s signature cocktails. Staff did well to help us with recommendations, offering suggestions based on our spirits of choice, and assuring us that anything not found on the pink-hued menu can be rustled up behind that magic marble bar. A food menu of small plates and light bites works as a tapas-style evening meal. Breakfast options such as garden pea and feta smash on sourdough toast and rainbow acai bowls make the Coral Room just as suitable for morning meetings, and the bar also caters to teetotal clientele thanks to a small menu of Seedlip’s non-alcoholic spirits.
