Constantine: A bar for worshipful fixation on the hooch

Less a bar than a naughty little underground church, the murky depths of Constantine’s drinkers' lair blocks out the rest of the harsh known world and puts on a quieting sleep mask of potent sedative. This is a place not necessarily for quiet contemplation, but for worshipful fixation on the hooch. Behold the slightly sinister taxidermy, the hostess lording over the place from a pulpit and the bartenders doling out stuff a little harsher than that average hipster's tinctures. Book a room at the upstairs, ultra luxe Hotel Ivy for when the spins invariably join the party.