Wall Street’s dusk ritual

Suits and ties in the cloud: my trio at a rooftop bar in Manhattan’s financial district

By Mike | 2025.06.20

18:30 | Wall Street’s dusk ritual、

When the Bloomberg terminal turned off the last data point, I loosened my tie and walked into the elevator of 230 Fifth Rooftop Bar. This is the code of Manhattan’s financial circle - when the sunset reflected by the glass curtain wall dyes the suit amber, the elites begin to migrate to higher places.

When the waiter took my briefcase, he whispered: "Mr. Chen's team has reserved a fire pit area in the northeast corner." There are three levels of seats here: the standing drinking area by the window is reserved for individual customers, the central circular bar belongs to hedge fund analysts, and the concave sofa area overlooking the Empire State Building only accepts reservations 72 hours in advance by black card members. When ordering, I chose Japan's Yamazaki 18 years pure drink - this is not an option on the wine list, but when you press your JPMorgan Chase ID card under the coaster, the rules will always be flexible.

20:15 | The grammar of power in whiskey

The second stop is Manhatta, a Michelin-starred bar on the 60th floor of the 28 Liberty building with a special magnetic field. After three cups, Lucas from a Singapore investment bank demonstrated the "Asian M&A codewords" to me with the rhythm of ice hockey hitting the wall of the cup: clockwise circles represent negotiation, and counterclockwise pauses mean the bottom line.

The bartender Darren suddenly pushed a glass of Compass Box No Name without an order, with a Chinese note attached: "Friends from Beijing should try the Scottish Rebellion." Later I learned that this was the "talent detector" of a private equity tycoon behind the bar. At one o'clock in the morning, I received a LinkedIn message from headhunter Sarah: "I heard that you talked about the rare earth supply chain in Manhatta?" - There are no secrets on the rooftops of Manhattan.

23:50 | Unexpected gains and oriental wisdom

It was almost midnight when we moved to The Crown, a bar hidden on the top floor of Hotel 50 Bowery known as the "highest Chinese terrace in New York." Alex, a Cantonese bartender, conquered my taste buds with bourbon whiskey soaked in Pu'er, and what was even more amazing was the acupuncture massage service I encountered in the bathroom - the therapist in an Armani suit pressed my Fengchi acupoint with his thumb accurately, and ten minutes later, the hangover was mostly gone.

Looking back at the lights of New Jersey on the other side of the Hudson River, I suddenly understood the survival philosophy of New Yorkers: the real elites never compete on the ground, they use altitude to filter the crowd and use alcohol content to measure trust.

Tomorrow's preview: Revealing the Speakeasy bar where you need to report the company's stock code to enter