Haunts to flaunt

The seedy-cellar aesthetic has long been a good fit for the wilder half of the young rum-and-coke crowd. Recently deceased, or at least defunct, musical Mecca Zoobizarre was solid evidence that the basement look is a hit after dark, even if the place is up a set of stairs rather than down it. It’s just got to have that underground vibe, literally and figuratively. So without Cherry to keep it relatively real in recent months, the Old Port’s been without a proper subterranean haunt for all the tight-pants loft types to weekend in.

Enter Velvet. It’s at 420 St-Gabriel. It’s small. The ceiling beams are low and the walls are no more than hung fabric. It’s got that ’round-the-corner wink-nudge feel, very friendly staff, nice couches, two bars, an intimate candle-lit atmosphere and promising prospects in the DJ/promoter department, all without having attracted too many Dolce & Gabbana types—yet. I made my first visit this past Saturday, had a fabulous time and got a warm and fuzzy feeling about the whole situation. They’re still working out details, notably the sound system, but if you haven’t already heard, the place is real, so check it out for sure.

I made another first pass that night. The new Stereo set-up is in full effect. The throng of twitchy, halter-topped hoochies and loud-mouthed, dress-shirted dudes spills down the street. The look is far cleaner and fresher than the former dank decor, but just as sparse. And the sound system is, of course, off the hook. As expected, the boom box is the central selling point, aside from the whole all-night drugged-out delirium thing, obviously. It seems like it’s pretty much back to business as usual. ‘Nuff said about that.

“IT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT SET OF RULES DOWN HERE”
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