Mr. Hive Kitchen & Bar, Melbourne

 

Despite it being a Friday night, and even though I was twisting through crowds only moments ago, Mr. Hive Kitchen & Bar has room to spare. I’m sitting on a red leather couch, pillows at my back, and my little marble table is the perfect height for writing. I’m surrounded by the intimacy of dark screens, but they allow me to see the space without feeling enclosed.

And what a space. The seats beg you to recline, potted plants soften the otherwise straight lines, and the conversations are quieter than other venues I’ve visited tonight. There’s a woman singing a Brazilian tune in the far corner, she reminds me or Nora Jones and she’s accompanied by a man playing an acoustic guitar – they’re bathed in soft light which changes colours, making me think of the crayons I loved as a child, and the staff is somehow invisible, yet everywhere.

This has a softer, more alluring energy than other places I have gone to write. I give the most credit to the performers – their music is transporting me.

I’m indulging on a honeycomb ice cream sundae. It’s so decadent that I’m taking breaks between teaspoons. I’m sipping on a Yarra Valley sav blanc and I’m well and truly settling in.

This is an ideal place for those writing a social scene, and a fantastic place for those wishing to anchor a date scene somewhere tangible. My imagination is captured, my senses ensnared. I know I’ll write about this place; I’ll bring my characters here and they’ll love it as much as I do.

Maybe it’s the wine, or the soft lighting – maybe it’s the plucks on the guitar strings sinking alongside my heartbeat, but I could curl up on the couch, buried amongst cushions which look like recycled grain sacks, and doze.

If Mr. Hive Kitchen & Bar is this intimate on a Friday night, then I would recommend coming here anytime, and sinking into the atmosphere. You’ll write some great stuff here, and if your enjoyment eclipses your writing discipline, it’s still a win. Come here when there’s live music and when it’s dark enough to have a flickering tealight on your table. Or come here during the day and tell me what it’s like, unless I’ve already come back to experience it for myself.

That said, I’m going to get started on the whole point of this night: I’m going to write my book. Even though I’m ready to slip into a honeycomb-wine coma. 

Click here to learn more about the venue.

Highlander Bar, Melbourne

Let me preface this blog with the fact that it’s a Friday night in Melbourne. The energy is building, the music is just loud enough that you need to throw your voice, and people are filing in looking for a seat. They’re wondering when I’m going to put my laptop away and free up the table, and the quiet section nearby is about to get noisy – a function’s due at six o’clock.

All of that aside – and I’ve spent years writing amongst chaos, so I must confess none of this bothers me – the place is great. It’s got a great feel to it. There are suede purple seats, deep brown furnishings, exposed brick walls and a dark floor tiles. Shanks are on special tonight, but I went for the pop corn chicken appetiser and house sav blanc. The chicken would be great if it were cooked through, but the forked toothpicks are keeping my fingers and keyboard clean.

There’s a function being set up upstairs and I’m tucked in the corner being nodded at by nine-to-fivers in suits and ties.

I like the exposed support beams the most. It adds a subtle distinction to the room.

I can’t explain the single red light, nor guess who’s responsible for the playlist. A moment ago the speakers were clicking and shooting their way through a song whose rhythm was gunfire, now they’re throbbing with that generic kind of house trance that could be one song or three.

Mirrors and empty frames line the walls and there are candles behind the bar. The street front’s nice, it really draws you in, and I imagine that during the week this place is far calmer than what I’m currently experiencing. Conversation is a constant thrum, occasionally interrupted by a boisterous laugh or an indignant exclamation, but I’m tuning it out well enough.

Not the right place to write for someone who needs a high table – I’ve got my elbows on my thighs to type this – or someone who needs a chair with a back. There are a lot of cube seats, and I imagine you need to get here early to secure one of the intimate booths. If you can block out the noise, or you can visit here during the week, I would recommend the trip. Otherwise, succumb to the environment, embrace the distractions, and recognise that a Friday night in the city is likely to yield these kind of circumstances.

That said, I’m going to get started on the whole point of this evening: I’m going to write my book. Even though a rapper is growling about fools and porn stars.

Click here to learn more about the venue.