First it was Lillie’s, Krystal for a little while, then Grafton Lounge had a bit of a moment – but 37 Dawson Street has remained constant in attracting something of a mystique (and an air of “Isn’t that you’re one off the telly?)

Proud owners of the world’s longest hashtag (#AllisNotWhatItSeems) and that infamous gold robot statue from the interiors store on Camden Street – there’s plenty I should be slagging about this place for being a Boom Time Bar fresh out of Recession Rehab, but I can’t; I bloody love this joint.

Let me put it this way when you’ve worked in a nightclub there’s a little part of you that loathes going out. 37 Dawson Street was the first of it’s kind. Just as the bubble burst had the bar scene looking pretty miserable, this place came out of the woodwork and it’s what enticed me back to the nightlife. More seats than floor space, dark but not seedy, dressy but not too much effort.

Many bars have followed suit, but you can’t beat the original. I love it for a date night drink, an after work drink and an event venue.  The whiskey bar at the back is plush, red velvet heaven. The bathrooms are massive and beautiful in their own right. Less shabby chic, more like an afterhours party in an antique shop. I’m a sucker for furniture that doesn’t match, nondescript funky music and chairs nailed to the wall – see it to believe it.

This is the venue to go if you’re in the mood for an older crowd with covetable fashion sense. If your shoes are more sitting down shoes than anything else. If you want to say the word “swanky” at a minimum 5 times in a night. If city center prices scare you – well, welcome to the real world. This, ladies and gentlemen, is my kind of bar. People who know me, use 37 as a benchmark when recommending any other bar to me.

Think Cafe En Sienne meets Vintage Cocktail Club with a sprinkle of the No Name Bar.