Harry's

This daydream is called Harry’s. It opens like the doors of a bar, welcoming you into a warm and vibrant microcosm of coriander and pink pepper, hypnotic with geranium. Here, one can take off their jacket and make themselves comfortable amidst the warmth of the Texas cedar wood of the counter and tables, and the smoky notes, a reminder of the thousands of cigarettes smoked here by artists and writers.

The incense illuminates the space like their discussions on art and literature, settling on a balsamic background of pure delight—labdanum and amber—comfortably resting on the leathery accord of the chairs. And suddenly, one no longer knows whether they are in London or Venice; all they know is that they will want to return, again and again.