Salon
In L.A.’s growing speakeasy scene, there’s a collective drive toward authenticity: presenting a genuine, impeccably accurate Prohibition-era environment so detailed that it sends a 21st century drinker back in time. Which leads us to a small, wondrous operation hidden on the third floor of a North Hollywood building. Salon, two floors above the Federal Bar on Lankershim Boulevard, is a room right out of a Fitzgerald novel: plush leather sofas, cast iron side tables, velvet drapes. Soft edison lighting falls on a baby grand piano, a false bookcase, an old chess board and old photos hanging on an exposed brick wall. Velour wallpaper begins near a dark wooden island bar where a young mixologist (the only modern fixture in the bar) is serving up classic drinks and innovative, original concoctions.
Salon is the brainchild of Damian Windsor, one of the most respected barmen in the game who’s tended at Cliftons, Seven Grand, the Roger Room and the Warwick, among others. Windsor uses no advertising, no signs that acknowledge Salon’s existence. You won’t need a password, just an escorted walk up a back stairway. Often the setting for private parties, reunions and spillover from the concert hall in the next room, the vibe is unpredictable. On quiet nights, Salon is nothing more than L.A.’s most authentic speakeasy.
Vitals
The scene:
Salon is an experiment in opposites.The brooding colors and low lighting create a warm, sophisticated feel reminiscent of an aristocrat’s living room where