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At Milady's, rent control pensioners paying $300 a month rub shoulders with yuppies paying $3,000 for the same apartment. But the only factionalism is between the dining contingent, which takes up most of the postage stamp-sized space, and drinkers clinging to the bar. The place feels like a condensed version of the pool table/jukebox/poker-machine joints that still thrive in the outer boroughs. The unavoidable TV sets switch from AMC by day to ESPN at night, as the crowd shifts from young and old to young and younger. As the evening wears on, classic rock cranks up, territorial pool regulars close ranks and you feel as if you're at a Staten Island cop bar plunked down in Soho. — Bruce Bennett