Bono and The Edge’s Clarence Hotel, refurbished during the tax-exempt (of course) period of Temple Bar’s renovation, houses two iconic establishments: the Cleaver East restaurant, and the Octagon Bar. It is to the latter that I coax a reluctant Anton, who makes no secret of his dislike for hotel bars, or every U2 album with the exception of Zooropa. “It’s pretty much the only album of theirs that isn’t all about being in the Illuminati,” he explains, as we walk up the stairs at the entrance. “I’ve listened to them all, and I can tell you that’s a fact.”
The place’s wooden panelling and geometric theme has something of the Masonic lodge about it (Anton holds his gin sling aloft, examining its ice-cubes. “Heavily flouridated, probably,” he sighs). It looks like a hotel bar in a Nixon-era political drama film. Most establishments of this kind have a vague sense of foreboding about them, if only for the abiding image of The Shining‘s Gold Room, but the Octagon confidently holds its own aesthetic, and offsets any potential for cloying horror by playing Norah Jones songs unusually loudly through its speaker system (unconfirmed as to whether this persists throughout the hotel or is specific to the bar area) and, on the Saturday night that we attend, screening a repeat of WWE Friday Night Smackdown on the flat-screen in the corner of its adjacent, non-octagonal lounge (“Vince McMahon: he’s another one,” says Anton).
Inside, the bar itself is an island in the shape of an octagon, a design which is certainly striking, if impractical. Glasses hang from the frame, encircling the service area at a height slightly too low to be sensible, generally reducing the possibility of eye contact with the barperson (“The eyes are a dead giveaway with Reptilians,” Anton says, offhandedly). For all its aesthetic swagger, I am disappointed to be served a Bloody Mary with a slice of lemon in place of the standard stick of celery (Anton picks it up and sings the word “lemon” in the style of Bono, from the song of the same name. “Track four on Zooropa man,” he nods). Lemon-celery debacle aside, however, the Octagon is a surprisingly relaxed, nicely put together bar which does a decent Guinness as well as a broad selection of cocktails. In the brief lulls between Norah Jones tracks, you can just about hear the low hum of Gregorian chanting from Bilderberg meetings in the rooms beneath (“I don’t know why they don’t just turn up the Gregorian chanting,” says Anton. “It’s atmospheric!”).
The Clarence Hotel
8 Wellington Quay
Temple Bar, Dublin 2
Visit Website.
t: 01-4070800
Words: Oisín Murphy-Hall
