Man, I don't fucking care

I'm all for fine living, but "mixology," "bartenders who are more like actors," following protégés of certain bartenders, and cross-Atlantic competition, reeks of the unspoken-probability that everyone who goes to these bars is a douchebag.

In New York, everything is a cut above, and it's probably true that part of that is a trickle-down from these high-end establishments. It's probably also true that you haven't really had a martini until you've had a $20 one in a place like these, but FUCK ME if there is anything innately classy about bridge-and-tunnelers and thick-necked investment bankers getting trashed. Anyways, this shit can die a slow death or fuck off like all other euro-pretensions: hipster dives and jack-and-coke forever!

see also this description of what sounds like my worst-nightmare (Milk and Honey NYC):
At last - a bar where the post-modern infatuation with stardom and celebrity has been thrown out like so many shattered shards of a Crystal bottle. This hard-to-find gem on Eldridge St is invitation-only and the lucky non-famous who get the nod have to call ahead and get buzzed in through a hi-tech surveillance door. It’s very 007 except the likes of Pierce Brosnan wouldn’t get in - owner Sasha has banned Quentin Tarantino and outlawed all “name-dropping and star-f*****g.” Gorgeous cocktails like blood-orange screwdrivers and strong-mint mojito muddles are expertly prepared by Sasha himself while lucky guests get to take reservation-only booths or stool space at the small five-seat bar. He wields a strong stick does our Sasha: not only is name dropping banned but men cannot introduce themselves to ladies and giving out phone numbers is strictly prohibited. Quirky, classy and just in time.