The Sanborns bar has something that transcends the simple idea of sitting down for a drink. It is a space that mixes the decadent with the nostalgic, a darkened refuge that seems designed for clandestine lovers and whispered confessions. Its decor, without great pretensions, has something irresistible: ample furniture, a service with character, and that kind of atmosphere that seems to come out of an urban novel.
Here, the cocktail bar is uncomplicated: classic drinks like Sex on the Beach or Medias de Seda find a perfect place in this bar, ideal for sending a silent message to the handsome guy on the other side. The decoration, which does not try to hide its wear and tear, breathes an air of the 80's, as if nothing had changed since the days of José José José playing on a melancholic keyboard.
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But what really distinguishes the Sanborns bar is its generous nature. Arriving hungry is never a problem: the snacks are constantly flowing. From chips and peanut enchilados to mini molletes, quesadillas or shrimp broth, every day there is a surprise to complement the vats that accompany any good impromptu peda.
There is something subversive about admitting that you are there, in a place that was once a symbol of Chilean family unity, where you went every Sunday with your grandparents, and that now retains a charm that mixes irony with authenticity. It is a place to sing at the top of your lungs the songs of lost loves, of course, depending on the branch you go to, or to laugh at yourself while enjoying their emblematic happy hour. My favorite combo is to order an order of French fries and the 2×1 strawberry margaritas.
In the end, the joy of going to the Sanborns bar is in understanding that there is no more authentic place to reconnect with the essential.
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