photo: Courtesy of Nick Flandro
Just by reading this review, we've already ruined Rose's for you. Because this is the type of place that you should stumble upon on your own—where you hop off a bus, arbitrarily walk in and have no idea what you're in for. But we can't help but tell you about the $1 pints of Old Style, about how sweet ol' Rose wanders behind the bar saying she loves everyone and everyone should be happy and about how this dive bar will renew your faith in dingy, little living-room taps.
We shouldn't share how you'll enjoy the camaraderie between the regulars and get to listen in on stories told by senior patrons. We shouldn't explain how the wobbly desk chairs, beat-up couches and a Christmas wreath dangling from a coat rack (in April!) give the space a pieced-together, rec-room feel. Let's not even discuss the free popcorn, pretzels or whatever other snack Rose brings in; how the jukebox plays swing music and how Rose has a propensity to buy drinks on the house for regulars or soon-to-be-regulars. We certainly shouldn't point out that Rose's is a one-of-a-kind divey oasis in the desert of overpriced and over-hyped Lincoln Park bars.
Why? Because, the truth is, we want to keep this place for ourselves.
Centerstage Reviewer: Karl Klockars