We were standing in front of Tiny Victories, but we couldn’t find a sign.
“Is this it?” I asked my friend.
“This is it,” a random guy replied, holding the door.
That was as good a sign as any, so we grabbed a table under a haphazard collage of art, which included a coaster-size sign that said “Ladies is pimps too” and a photo of a woman petting a zebra.
Tiny Victories, which opened in February in Oak Cliff, has high ceilings, a huge back-lit shelving unit behind the bar, and gender-neutral bathrooms labeled “We don’t care.” The music switched seamlessly from pop to soul hits, and, at 1,000 square feet, the space was cozy. I thought it evoked a cross between a super-chill Portland bar and a 1950s soda shop, which resulted in a debate about what kind of bar Tiny Victories is.
“It’s where a hit man comes for a drink when the target isn’t home yet,” my friend decided, after much thought.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s the kind of place where you pick up a guy with a beard,” I said. “Or read a book without being bothered.”
He pointed. Nearby, someone was reading a book.
Our waitress showed up. She was wearing Converse sneakers and a shirt that revealed extensive tattoos across her abs. There’s no menu, she said, just classic cocktails and some wine and beer.
We asked her to surprise us. She returned with a Red Hook for my friend and a Victor Tango for me. As we sipped, an apprehensive-looking couple wandered in. Within a minute, though, the woman was dancing. After five minutes, the couple was locked in a passionate embrace. Beside them, two guys in skinny jeans discussed barbecue.
My friend and I called a truce on our debate and decided to soak up the atmosphere. We could agree on one thing: hanging out here made us feel cool, and we were in no rush to leave.
“Is this it?” I asked my friend.
“This is it,” a random guy replied, holding the door.
That was as good a sign as any, so we grabbed a table under a haphazard collage of art, which included a coaster-size sign that said “Ladies is pimps too” and a photo of a woman petting a zebra.
Tiny Victories, which opened in February in Oak Cliff, has high ceilings, a huge back-lit shelving unit behind the bar, and gender-neutral bathrooms labeled “We don’t care.” The music switched seamlessly from pop to soul hits, and, at 1,000 square feet, the space was cozy. I thought it evoked a cross between a super-chill Portland bar and a 1950s soda shop, which resulted in a debate about what kind of bar Tiny Victories is.
“It’s where a hit man comes for a drink when the target isn’t home yet,” my friend decided, after much thought.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s the kind of place where you pick up a guy with a beard,” I said. “Or read a book without being bothered.”
He pointed. Nearby, someone was reading a book.
Our waitress showed up. She was wearing Converse sneakers and a shirt that revealed extensive tattoos across her abs. There’s no menu, she said, just classic cocktails and some wine and beer.
We asked her to surprise us. She returned with a Red Hook for my friend and a Victor Tango for me. As we sipped, an apprehensive-looking couple wandered in. Within a minute, though, the woman was dancing. After five minutes, the couple was locked in a passionate embrace. Beside them, two guys in skinny jeans discussed barbecue.
My friend and I called a truce on our debate and decided to soak up the atmosphere. We could agree on one thing: hanging out here made us feel cool, and we were in no rush to leave.
