New York Magazine

For the financial district’s youngest suits, a dive that serves up college nostalgia in the form of nightly beer pong and a late-night kitchen.

Every bartender and cocktail waitress at this downtown Irish pub sports a ruddy, cheerful expression and purls in a soothing brogue.

Packed into this narrow barroom is just about every piece of kitsch that Aer Lingus would allow the owners to drag back.

The owners of this wine bar offer a more sedate scene than Jeremy's Ale House up the block and have very different tastes in wine.

A deli-dive that may just be home to the city’s loneliest Jäger dispenser.

This elegant Financial District bar harks back to an old New York of waterfront trade and private clubs.

A tripartite lounge inside the brasserie Perle.

Opened in 1794, this worn-in tavern has seen more trends come and go than Anna Wintour and Diana Vreeland combined.

In the back of a midtown deli, a seedy throwback to the days of blind pigs and free-and-easies.

A rough-and-tumble house of games for Financial District frat boys and other urban rednecks.

A spacious Irish pub at the end of a quaint, cobblestone financial-district lane with well-done pub fare.

The laidback, authentic vibe at this Irish pub in the Financial District is akin to its sister locale in Brooklyn Heights.

Like many of the versatile watering holes nearby, this manicured sports bar attract a schizoid mix of Pace undergrands, seaport tourists, and Wall Street strays.

Believe it or not: an East Village dive kitty-corner to the South Street Seaport.

A little Coyote Ugly –esque fun at all hours in this financial district saloon, complete with scantily clad bartenders and a saddle-cum-swing suspended over the bar.

At 8 am, the fishmongers would start downing 32-ounce Styrofoam cups of Coors at this one-of-a-kind waterfront dive.

Hidden in the bowels of the Financial District is a local bar that might just make working there worthwhile.

For several decades now, Killarney Rose has been a go-to financial-district watering hole for suits and locals alike.

Lilly O’Brien’s is an example of the classic downtown New York Irish pub, the type of place where construction workers throw back a beer next to Wall Street honchos.

Massive picture windows invite traders, tourists, and commuters alike to slow down, stop in, and get sauced on classic cocktails.

Like a visit to a Jersey basement bachelor party, circa 1970.

This strip club’s fifteen minutes of fame date back to 2000 with the go-go anthem “Perfect Gentleman” by Wyclef Jean and Hope.

Housed within a Federal landmark building, The Paris is steeped in both history and the pungent stench of fish.

Run by the same people who brought us Coyote Ugly and Yogi's—the same people rumored to hire bartenders by putting out a sign, "Drunk Sluts Wanted"—the Patriot is gloriously, unabashedly, just a little pornographically all about the boobage.

An English—not Irish!—pub created strictly for the after-work finance crowd.