White pearl jewelry and sacramental symbols drape elegantly down the walls. The musky scent of incense wafts through the air. A tarot reader inhabits a corner with her cards spread out on the table. Dim lighting, in hues of blues and reds, adds to the mystic atmosphere of the wine bar, La Santoria, one of many themed bars in Madrid.
Tucked away on Calle de Lope de Vega, 30, an unmarked door with a sign instructs you to ring the bell and wait. Small groups are let in gradually as the bar can only accommodate 35 people at a time. Employees recommend going earlier, around 8 p.m., if you want to be seated quickly.
Once space is available, you will be guided in and seated in a nook. The menu, displayed on every table, explains the premise of the bar: all cocktails are considered to be potions that help consumers fulfill their deepest desires.
“Cocktails that reach the SOUL and become flavors to make LIFE more beautiful,” reads the menu card.
Intimate groups of young men and women are scattered throughout the main room. Some perch at the edge of the bar, while others lounge on the couches.
It is a recent fall evening, and two brunettes sit side by side on a faux leather couch. Their cucumber waters are untouched in front of them as they are absorbed by their phones. The glow of the screen illuminates their faces, casting shadows on the sharp angles of their features.
A man in uniform, sporting a scruffy beard and low ponytail, approaches. Before taking their order, he launches into an explanation of the premise of the bar.
“Order your drink based on the energy you want to feel, not the ingredients you want to taste,” he advises.
The girls skim the menu and start contemplating their potion of choice. “Do I need spiritual guidance or a love potion tonight?” one wonders out loud.
“Definitely spiritual guidance,” Her friend murmurs in response.
In the opposite corner, a couple sits side by side as well. The tinkling sound of laughter fills the air as they snap candid photos of each other while striking playful poses. The server swiftly approaches, carrying over their drinks on a tray: two mason jars filled with ice and brimming with deep cherry-colored liquor. Their eyes light up as they switch the direction of the camera lens to start snapping pictures of the vibrant drinks instead.
Behind the bar, a tall woman with long, curly hair slicked back into a ponytail and arms adorned in ink flings napkins into the trash can. She hurriedly wipes down the counter, resetting the space for the line of customers eagerly waiting outside in the rain for a seat.
