In less than a year, Triangle Bar’s eclectic space has become the place to meet for people looking for refuge and community.
Alex Willow
When you pass the threshold into Triangle Bar, you notice that the rest of the world seems to melt away. Perhaps it’s the combination of the quirky neon lighting, the chilled beats playing throughout, and the excited chatter rounding out the experience that lets you know that you’re somewhere you can be yourself.
When Triangle Bar opened almost a year ago, it was an unassuming sight. Nestled between Jade Garden Chinese Restaurant and Kleimann’s Deli on 57th Street,
the only way you could tell it was there was a single understated sign featuring just a lone pink triangle. It’s a symbol that has long been associated with the people the bar seeks to serve. Today, it’s much harder to miss, as there’s a constant flow of excited regulars coming and going deep into the night.
Triangle Bar’s proprietor and head bartender, Riley Verselis, had envisioned the space as being, first and foremost, for local queer communities to be who they are. As Verselis, who is themself nonbinary, puts it, “Triangle is a place you can go when there’s nowhere else you can go.” It’s a principle they’ve kept up with as an iron-clad principle. They provide a place to rest, drink and mingle with others who are just like you. Feeling welcome and being welcoming are the only price of admission.
It’s just after dinner and unusually quiet on the street when I arrive, but I can hear laughter wafting through the door. By the time I step inside and hang up my coat, Verselis has already called out my name from the bar. I’m surprised that they recognized me so quickly, despite having spoken only via email. It’s a testament to how attentive they are to everything that happens in the bar. Though their piercings and tattoos portray a rough exterior, it’s immediately apparent that Verselis is as sweet as they come. After a little introductory chitchat, they offer me a drink.
Nearby, a regular overhears and tells me Verselis’ signature cocktail changes on a frequent basis. Whether it’s a change of ingredients or a change of method, they’re constantly updating the recipe to taste. In something of a Ship of Theseus situation, the drink can be completely materially different after a few revisions but still be considered the same. A version of the drink may remain the same for a week, or a month, or two, but it’s always a good measure of eccentric, and its mutable nature means the best time to experience this version of it is now. Tonight, it contains cachaça, Campari, a dash of lime juice, and a squeeze of a spicy, exotic-looking fruit I’ve never seen before. The cocktail, I’m told, does not have an official name as Verselis is loath to put a label on something that’s still finding its identity, but regulars have taken to calling it “The Experiment” and Verselis undertands. Whatever you call it, I call it delicious.
As Verselis attends to another customer, I get my first real chance to take in the scenery. The shelves and walls are laden with assorted tchotchkes— thrift store and occasionally sidewalk finds, they say, as Verselis delights in picking up things that others have thrown away and giving them a new home. Despite the dark neon ambiance, there’s a broad cross-section of the queer community here with people of all ages sharing the space. In the corner, I see a group of young regulars laughing over a small collection of old arcade machines. A young man who I had mistaken for a delivery guy enters and turns out to be a delivery guy just getting off work. He goes to join the arcade group, where they have cheers and an Experiment waiting for him. He’s apparently very good at
Cruis’n USA.
All along the wall behind them is a striking display of art prints. The theme of these seems to be a multifarious mix of queer or at least queer-adjacent celebrities. Oscar Wilde, Marsha P. Johnson, Victor Noir, Raffaella Carrà, SOPHIE, Angela Davis, St. Sebastian, Leslie Cheung, and others. I presume, if not cool enough to recognize affected by the neon lights, they give the effect of a modern day syncretic pantheon. Verselis would later tell me they make these prints themself and they’re adding two more next week. I’m not sure where they find the time for all of it.
In the back, I see the makings of a small kitchen being renovated. With the success of Triangle Bar’s first year, Verselis hopes to expand the team and offer food options. They show me a well-used notebook filled with menu ideas, complete with sketches which look good enough to eat off the page. Until that becomes a reality, however, they allow outside food but only from nearby restaurants, accounting for all the Chinese takeout boxes strewn throughout the venue.
“I guess it’s just a small thing I can do to support local business,” Verselis says. “We can’t provide food right now, so if you’re going to get some, get it from our neighbors.” They shoot a knowing smile. “It’s really good to be honest. It’d be hard to compete with everyone when we get the kitchen up and running.”
“Triangle is a place you can go when there’s nowhere else you can go.”
Verselis introduces me to Clara Dixon who, they say, is Triangle’s first regular. “As soon as I walked in, I knew this place would be special,” Dixon says. “I would end up bringing my friends, and now we’re here every week for board games. But I’m a day one! I know what the first Experiment was like!” This is a rather large point of pride for many of Triangle Bar’s long-time regulars. According to local legend, the first Experiment was only available for four hours before it changed. By Verselis’ reckoning, there have been almost seventy Experiments.
Dixon continues, “We really do love it here. If you want a place where you can just be, it’s either here or the library. And drinking gets you kicked out of the library.” Dixon may be a few drinks deep at this point of the night, but they’re not wrong in her assessment. Everything about Triangle Bar, from the idiosyncratic décor to the ever-changing creative choices, says that every thing is welcome and exploration is imperative.
With so many changes and running influences throughout Triangle Bar, I wonder if Verselis has a vision for how the bar would eventually end up. “Not really,” they say. “I pretty much decide things on a whim and see where it takes me. As long as it’s a place for folks to feel safe and connected, I’m happy. I can’t help but feel there’s a parallel to be made here, in that Triangle gives people the freedom to be themselves and gives everyone the freedom to be trusted.”
Verselis chuckles at the observation. “Triangle means a lot of things, such as a queer symbol. It’s also the strongest shape. It’s support on all sides. It’s the third place. It’s community. I think a lot of us need that right now.”
