New York Magazine

Strewn rose petals, Persian rugs, and tapestries worth an Arabian prince’s ransom make this sumptuous space as moneyed as it is Moroccan.

The third addition to the mini-chain offers the signature books, top-shelf, and stogies, in a slightly more formal setting (bring a jacket, ditch the sneakers).

Classic old New York is alive and kicking at this former speakeasy.

A gimmicky-drink-promo aficionado’s nirvana, as nearly every night of the week offers some special.

Suitable for a place aspiring to emulate nearby Smith & Wollensky's, Blackstone's attracts young professionals and their office crushes.

The young, the well-heeled, and the well-to-do inside take considerable time getting ready for a night out on the town.

A Belgian wonderland of fancy, delicious beers (and all-you-can-eat mussels!) in a midtown wasteland.

Harken back to the days of indoor cigar-smoking (the aroma, the ambiance, the falling ashes) at this elegant and jazzy lounge.

A standard wine bar doing its best to signify “rustic European charm.”

The platonic ideal of an inoffensively bland midtown Irish pub, saved by its commitment to televising the world’s favorite game.

A standard sports bar and restaurant in every functional way, but it boasts none of the well-worn vets, homey poolrooms, or stale, smoke-starved air that hangs around so many of the city’s innumerable McPubs.

The lounge adjacent to Amalia offers similar high-design, but with sexier overtones.

A mellow bar in a historic hotel that serves platonically ideal cocktails.

From the owners of Philippe comes this swank lounge with an aesthetic that’s all “Wall Street” extravagance.

A lush Midtown lounge decorated with velvet wallpaper, snakeskin leather walls, alligator-tufted ceilings, antique books, Chinese swords, and masks from Bali.

A hidden Scotch sanctuary where shots will run you from $20 to $800.

Be a big spender or just look like one at this sophisticated hotel bar for the well groomed.

Unfortunately, cheap beer is about all Metro 53 has to its credit.

Another mediocre midtown Irish pub.

A typical Irish sports bar with a happy hour that starts at 10—that is, 10 a.m.

The sexiest party on earth invades midtown.

Oscar Wilde's namesake brings a bit of the eighties to sterile Midtown East.

Sidewalk seating and frequent drink specials are the sole draws of this generic Midtown haunt.

The ghost-ridden saloon has modernized, but the details remain the same.

The Palace Hotel's courtyard bar features waitresses in LBDs and $20 cocktails.