Maxxinista

America's Next Top Looksmaxxer

On an extremely cold day, I took the train straight to the Roxy Oyster Bar, which people seem to forget is one of three bars in that hotel, not including the movie theater, which does sell canned wine. A live jazz band stopped mid-afternoon, mid-second Bloody Mary for me, and I wondered: when did they start? The sun was still up, and the Super Bowl hadn’t commenced on the giant flatscreen that someone had just rolled out into the lobby.

Years ago, a friend and I decided to make this bar our daytime go-to but the plan didn’t come to fruition before he moved to LA. On this day, I met someone in town from Mexico City on his way to Baltimore. We shared an order of East Coast oysters, and then another. I’m surprised it still never feels overrun, even when there’s a line for Paul’s, a sold out screening, or a packed Django downstairs. This one is a real hotel bar, full of travelers and loiterers, which is my favorite crowd out of any of the above club-goers, jazz snobs, and film nerds, anyway.