A few weeks ago, as I was scrolling through Instagram, I came across a post from my friend Chris who shared a story that included matches from the famous Coffee Shop that once took over the corner of 16th Street and Union Square West.
As soon as I saw those blue and yellow matches it struck a chord and I quickly went to get my container filled with matchbooks I’ve collected. Sure enough, I still had them. Even though I met Chris years after he worked at the Coffee Shop, we both had that same little piece of NYC memorabilia.
Most of the places that fueled my NYC energy are – sadly – no longer in existence. In the early 90s I worked downtown. The city was very different back then – there wasn’t a Walgreens or Chase bank on every corner – instead there were more brick and mortar stores and old mom and pop places.
As I rummaged through my blue glass container with that overwhelming smell of sulphur in the air, each match book I touched sparked a memory.
There were the many magical moments at the Greatest Bar on Earth and maybe too many Friday night margaritas at El Teddy’s in Tribeca. I could almost taste the yummy pancakes and hear the click of flutes filled with mimosas as we toasted another Sunday jazzy brunch at The Cupping Room.
For a moment I felt that I could hear my feet walking on the crunchy floor filled with peanut shells at the Louisiana Community Bar & Grill on Broadway and Houston. I remember ordering my first flight of wine at The Soho Kitchen and Bar and I thought that was the coolest thing. And oh, those nights dancing on the chairs after dinner at Boom on Spring Street followed by late night singing and dancing to 1970s hits at PollyEsther’s in the East Village. I can still feel the beat from the tambourine. We were having the time of our lives.
The one book of matches that wasn’t in the pile was my all-time favorite, Lucky Strike in Soho. I think I took all my friends and even my Mom to Lucky Strike. That’s what I loved about Lucky Strike; you could spend hours sipping cappuccinos, a leisurely lunch or just a glass of wine, but what I especially loved was a steak frites dinner with a bottle of wine or two, simply talking about the meaning of life.
I was introduced to Lucky Strike in the 90s when there was a line to get in – it was worth the wait – there was sense of excitement as we walked through the doorway and that velvet curtain parted and we entered an intimate bar filled with people drinking, eating, and laughing. But the real fun started around the midnight hour. We always ended up dancing the late night hours away as the DJ, tucked in a corner, was happily spinning records. For me, this place encapsulated my New York City.
Every matchbook has a story and I cherish all the memories. Now, when I see the blue Chase sign instead of the vibrant bright red “Coffee Shop Bar” sign that once lit up Union Square West, I smile and pause for a moment – I am glad there are places I’ll remember even though most have gone. At least I have these matchbooks to spark my memories.
TL's Moments 