“If drinking on the rooftop of a building is gross, why do people keep doing it?” That is how forcefully Courtney Iseman begins an article published in Slate. “Imagine your ideal night. Does it include long lines, slow elevators and picky doormen? Dress codes, entry fees, and per-person minimums? Bland, watered-down, or overly sugary drinks—perhaps in plastic cups—that cost more than 25 euros? No? Then, as enticing as the siren song of rooftop bars may be, it seems that, in reality, you don’t want to go to a bar perched atop a building. Because, leaving aside the good views, this is how the evening tends to unfold,” asserts this ardent critic of the rooftops.
But dear readers, who doesn’t enjoy a fine Roman baptistery and, above all, a good view? I confess that if someone suggested going to a rooftop on a first date, I’d think it’s pretentious, snobbish, and that they’re sporting Giorgi hair gel (a kiss to Bisbal, if he’s reading), but I also admit that I’m always seduced by a great view, so it’s possible I might swallow my words. Although it’s essential that the lighting is good. Warm lights rather than those rainbow flashes that make you feel like a contestant on RuPaul’s Drag Race. The key to making a rooftop not the worst decision of your week is actually simple: a bit of authorial mixology and a good DJ. Because if they serve me a revolting mojito with a Café Quijano song in the background, I’ll step off the world. And off the rooftop, of course.
That’s why one of my favorites is The ROOF, in The Barcelona EDITION. Being able to see the Mercat de Santa Caterina and the sea from there is already a dream, but enjoying from that height a beautiful sunrise deserves a slow clap. That’s why its Sunset Sessions with local DJs are the perfect finale. And if you refuse to have a hangover as absurdly huge as it is and opt to stay sharp and eat something, the gastronomic collaboration with Beirut Barcelona, the project of Lebanese chef Paul Haddad, will suit you much better than those rancid nuts that so many places serve as if they were offering caviar. Let’s not fall for that Grefusa trap.
