What your local watering hole says about you
Strap in, Adelaide. We’ve decided to roast you.
Over the years, we think CityMag has been too nice, too positive, too glowing.
We’re bringing some grit back to the culture because we can’t wax lyrical about the sticky floors and tagged bathroom of our beloved Cranker anymore.
You’re all too comfortable these days, so we’re squeezing a sour lemon of doubt in your gin and soda.
This one is for all of you out there who think having a favourite bar is a personality trait.
Well, maybe it is, because we’ve distilled the best and worst of it down for you.
Latteria
185 Hutt Street
A mix of a house vodka, house soda and a squeeze of an overripe lemon – which is the common drink at any other bar – just isn’t going to cut it for you, you Latteria lover. Your drink of choice isn’t just a standard negroni, it’s the rhubarb Sbagliato to sip on appropriately (not skol). Ordering a few bites on the Latteria menu won’t hurt – God knows you can afford it – as you seamlessly make your way through the multifaceted bar. You take casual, individual mirror selfies in the aesthetic unisex bathroom, having to twist and turn to get a full-body pic – oblivious to other patrons in the vicinity who are privately washing their hands in the shared space. But the average Latteria goer is sophisticated and knows their worth. They know where to spend their money and don’t waste it on things that don’t serve them well. We all wish we could have a little Latteria energy in us.
Three attributes: rich, confident, refined
Shotgun Willie’s
22 Gilbert Street
If there’s one personality trait about the average Shotgun Willie’s goer, it’s that you’re determined and you uphold the ethos of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’. The often 30-plus minute queue is no problem for you, dear country bumpkin. You are quite happy to wait for your coveted spot inside the overly packed and sweaty bar, where there’s no room to dance or move. You sober up while you shiver outside, often leaving yourself irritated by the drunken nonsense. But you don’t mind, it’s all worth it when you finally walk through those doors. You buy a gin with freshly squeezed apple juice and sing ‘Mean’ by Taylor Swift, only to find when you hit up the queue to enter the next weekend, it’s Groundhog Day – ‘Mean’ by Taylor Swift, and the entire Shotgun’s playlist for that matter, included. But hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
Three attributes: determined, basic, risk-averse
Smokelovers
244 Rundle Street
Let’s be honest, the first time you walked into Smokelovers was because The Exeter had run out of outdoor tables and you were fanging for a cigarette. You bought a glass of something white, grabbed a seat out the front and enjoyed the afternoon sun. It all came together for you as you felt Part Of Something Big. You could fantasise that you were anywhere else; somewhere with a Scene™. The DJ started spinning eclectic tracks on wax. Ex-situationships wandered by and didn’t look at you once. Rough. You bought a bottle of Riesling to calm your nerves, all the while glancing over at The Exeter, desperate for cheap beer. You can probably not afford the prices here, but screw it, you look far cooler sitting on this side of the planter box. Suddenly it’s 2am. Sugar closed down, so you have to go home. You’ll come back again for a martini, extra dirty.
Three attributes: boozy, cool, nonchalant
Eastend Cellars
25 Vardon Avenue
There are two types of people who visit East End Cellars. The first are the permanently sort of drunk professionals that wind up at the restaurant bar during the daytime for “business meetings”. The second is the former private school boys and girls who gather here en masse in their beige chinos and RMs after 6pm and take over all the outdoor tables, giving wary glances to anyone who might dare to wear something other than a Ralph Lauren rugby jumper. They dominate Vardon Avenue, which has to shut entirely for these revellers who mostly work for their dad’s accounting or law firm. The ladies perch on blue denim laps in KOOKAÏ tailored pants, sipping on wine grown by their best friends’ uncle. They’ll never have to work again once they lock down a golden-haired St Peter’s boy. It’s another world here, and you’re probably not invited.
Three attributes: bougie, connected, obnoxious
The Cumby
205 Waymouth Street
In an increasingly bleak west end with boarded-up shops every few metres and the convenience store economy keeping the vacancy rate down, the Cumby is a solace. You likely started your Cumby journey tagging along to their Tuesday quiz night in forced – sorry, encouraged – office bonding, only to find it’s actually a great night out. You enjoy the simple pleasures in life, donning only your best rugby shirt to kick back with a pint of pale for Friday night footy. For those of us who long for the days of $3 vodka razzies at the London, you’ll be rewarded by the trip down Waymouth on a Saturday with $6 vodkas from 9 ‘til midnight (that’s inflation for you). After a few of those, we’ll find your calling card, a blurred shot of the neon piggy on your Instagram story.
Three attributes: lack-back, quizzical, true-blue
Therapy
2 Peel Street
If you’re suggesting meeting someone at Therapy, you either don’t want to be seen with them, or you’re a cocktail snob who believes the longer the list, the better the sip. Patrons fall firmly into two camps: having a well-worn mental health care plan, or the bottle is the only kind of therapy you believe in. You either take two hours to place your order or two seconds: opting for the Nikki Webster of course. You say it’s your go-to because it’s fun, fruity and flirty, but really it’s just the perfect way to drown your sorrows after a few too many rejected strawberry kisses. You take the stairs two at a time upon entering, feeling pretty proud of yourself for being ‘in the know’ about the underground spot – even though it’s well signed these days, competing with the other offerings on Peel Street for your attention. Getting back up the stairs to leave is a different story.
Three attributes: incognito, twisted, street-smart
This article first appeared in The Blueprint Edition of CityMag, released in spring of 2025.
