At Peachy’s, you’re bound to break half of the rules. NO PHOTOS, NO FIGHTING, the hot-pink neon-lit sign commands as you descend below Doyers Street into the Chinese Tuxedo–owned cocktail bar. While nothing stirred us to brawl (the edict is a shout-out to the street’s historic gang violence), it’s harder to resist snapping pics of the cool-kid cavern with its Gucci tiger-print wallpaper, flickering candles and flower arrangements that could be plucked straight from a wedding at the Plaza.
Indeed, the bar is all #vibes, right down to the cocktails. You’ll drink out of a ceramic gut (Buddha’s Belly) or a plastic cold-brew cup (the Good Sort Rainbow Latte). Most of the drinks’ flavor notes range from sweet to sweetest, but the biggest offender is the blue-algae–and-pineapple Born on the Baiju, which doesn’t taste much different than licking the blue powder off a Fun Dip sugar stick.
However, the rosy Enter the Dragon, which mixes strawberry and dragon fruit, is as heavenly as “drinking a perfume cloud,” my companion said, before we fought over the bill.