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Nassau Bar neatly straddles the line between dive bar and strip club. Every day is a day at the beach for the bartenders, an all-female crew generally clad in bikinis, when not in lingerie. Seated at the long bar are employees from nearby City Hall and Financial District offices, nearly all with Y chromosomes. Though a couple of suits wander in, most patrons are blue and pink collar high-rise refugees, enjoying a midday break, or killing a little time before hopping the ferry back home to Staten Island. Red bulbs in the overhead fixtures and a soundtrack covering hard rock and insistent dance music reinforce the gentlemen’s club atmosphere. A couple of fake items are visible, not limited to faux exposed brick and plastic wood paneling, which aid in creating the vibe of a disreputable Jersey rec room. The place is not entirely without festivity, however—come the holidays, the skeleton near the cash register dons a Santa hat and a bracelet of bells. In the center of the room a now-obsolete smoke sucker hangs alongside a small ceiling fan, but no amount of circulation here can displace the typical strip club air of lost opportunity. — Ethan Wolff