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Crowning a Grand Central-area hotel where each guestroom floor is named after one of the ten major Dewey Decimal System categories, the rooftop bar is the tipsy offspring of corporate and literary culture. A fireplace and mahogany paneling project eighties Wall Street stateliness while the summery wooden deck chairs in the crème conservatory suggests a 1940s literary colony on the Cape. The demographic isn’t quite so evenly split: Cubicle escapees and suited execs with loosened ties and are more likely to mingle with casually attired Europeans abroad than bed-headed, rumpled-jacketed poets and publishers. On a serene rooftop garden that accommodates smoking, secondary perks include a solid wine list and elegant cocktails. — Porochista Khakpour