I have recently been introduced to the concept of „ruin bars”; I had seen such places before (some made on purpose, others left to decay), but now I know there’s a name for the trend.
A place which quickly became dear to me – and to my husband, it seems – called Plastilina (the Romanian word for modelling clay), probably falls into the category of „ruin bars”. Though I like to believe it is more than just that.
The former barn/ carriage garage (back from when people in Bucharest still used horse – drawn carriages) and the yard of an old house close to the Pache Protopopescu square in the capital hosts this mysterious place.
Why mysterious? Because one can hardly guess what’s inside the terrace, when checking it out from the street. The owners have cleverly hidden the entrance using a wardrobe – you have to go there to understand what I mean – so either you’re inside, or you’re outside, on the street, it’s hard to figure out what’s on the other side. Which works just fine for me.
Read the whole article here.