Not to sound babyish, but while the “secret” of Bar Secreto has long been out of the proverbial bag (due in no small part to the legendary Madonna and Jesus Luz hook up), the last two times we visited I was surprised to find out the real secret is that the place kind of sucks. Sure, you expect cool night spots to degenerate into the breeding grounds for the lawyers-away-from-the-office and the recently brokenhearted rich girl types. But polo shirts and Chanel bags aside, the horse-choking cocktail cost, the strange mix of music from the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, 2000s and today (which sounds like an adult contemporary radio station’s slogan—and it should—because it basically was the slogan of Lite-FM in New York for decades), and the aggressive clientele made for a generally uneasy, if not unwelcoming feeling.
Do girls like getting punched in the shoulder on the dance floor? Do bartenders like getting the eye-blinding light function of some fat jerk’s cell phone waved in their faces so that they might more quickly serve his royal fatness? Maybe it’s the overcrowding or the low-quality Brazilian cocaine, but people in this place get really angry really fast when they don’t have their way and don’t have enough room. It’s not Nazi Germany, but I’m sure someone less reasonable than me has already made the comparisons.
Do girls like getting punched in the shoulder on the dance floor? Do bartenders like getting the eye-blinding light function of some fat jerk’s cell phone waved in their faces so that they might more quickly serve his royal fatness? Maybe it’s the overcrowding or the low-quality Brazilian cocaine, but people in this place get really angry really fast when they don’t have their way and don’t have enough room. It’s not Nazi Germany, but I’m sure someone less reasonable than me has already made the comparisons.
