Reading the Room How Decor Choices Signal Who the Pub Is For

When you go through the door of any bar, you have to make a decision about whether or not to remain. Usually, it occurs prior to finding a seat. A silent decision is taken after the eyes survey the space, the hearing detect the volume of the discussion, the nose detects something hops, old wood, fryer oil, and lemon polish. I am the owner of this site. Or it isn’t. Most of us never consider that criticism again. The designers of these places hardly consider anything else.

The structure itself has always adhered to a sort of dress code for pub décor. One thing can be inferred from a low ceiling and a dark wood horseshoe bar. A blackboard promoting natural wines and a whitewashed wall adorned with dried lavender convey completely different things. Neither is superior. They are only addressed to distinct individuals, and whether the owner is aware of it or not, the design handles the addressing. It’s similar to how a store display selects who enters. The invitation is selected, but the door is always open.

I’ve spent enough time in pubs in England, Ireland, and now other countries to observe how infrequently the signals are unintentional. The broken tiles around the bar at a Dublin vintage pub are not the result of negligence. Someone decided not to replace them at some point, which is why they are there. Arguments include the somewhat uneven floor, the framed racing photos from the 1970s, and the cracked brass foot rail. They contend that newcomers are welcome as long as they acknowledge that the space belongs to a specific type of regular. It’s a subtle form of assurance.

The modern gastropub has a distinct strategy. A copper fronted bar, exposed Edison lights, reclaimed school chairs, and a menu that utilizes the word “sharing” three times are all not coincidences. They have a direct conversation with a visitor who has traveled, has thoughts about sourdough, and wants to feel as though the bar is knowledgeable about it. More than one third of diners claim that atmosphere influences their emotional connection with a location, according to SevenRooms research, and it’s difficult to imagine that number underestimates the true impact. When the meal is good, people don’t go back to that location. The room agreed with them, so they went back.

Pub design is now experiencing a tension that is not well discussed. Owners desire a wide range of patrons, such as families at lunch, professionals at six, drinkers at ten, and a Saturday function room reservation. As a result, they continue to soften the edges until the space appeals to no one in particular. The end effect is a playlist taken from a streaming service’s hospitality channel, beige banquettes, mediocre lighting, and the oddly bland pub you occasionally see in a renovated market town. In theory, everyone is welcome, but nobody feels really invited. It is the equivalent of a courteous handshake in terms of design.

On the other hand, successful bars typically make a commitment. The Irish Pub Company, which claims to have more than 2,000 locations worldwide and has been in business for more than 30 years, constructs its rooms with a clear understanding of who is supposed to sit in them. According to reports, their work at Cain’s Brewery in Liverpool a forty foot well, tunnels converted into music venues, and listed brickwork allowed to speak for itself increased sitting capacity by more than thirty five percent and attracted customers to the larger Baltic Triangle. That isn’t ornamentation. That’s a timber and stone argument concerning an audience.

In this entire discussion, lighting is arguably the most underappreciated lever. Years ago, Cornell’s Food and Brand Lab discovered that diners tended to place lighter orders in brighter rooms. The effect is immediately apparent to anybody who has compared a Friday night throng beneath amber pendants to a Sunday brunch crowd under skylights. The visitor is learning how to act in the room. Similar work is done by soundscapes; slow tempo music has been associated with dwell lengths exceeding eighty minutes each visit, which is the difference between one drink and three for an operator counting covers.

Then there’s the issue of plating and the photos that appear on the internet, which is where a lot of bars make mistakes. The visitor who arrives anticipating candle wax and shadowy nooks may feel subtly duped by the bright lunch throng because a pub with a chalk painted outside and a website full of somber, low lit drink shots is delivering two distinct invites. According to Cropink, 41% of Gen Z uses TikTok to research restaurants before visiting. Before it was a room, it was a piece of media. For a few chairs and a coat of paint, that’s a big responsibility.

It’s intriguing to observe how sustainability has begun to communicate on its own. Reclaimed wood, locally fired ceramics, and a beer list that identifies the town and the brewer all indicate to a particular type of customer that the pub shares their values. According to recent data from Mintel, over half of UK diners now consider this information when deciding where to spend their money. It’s what the cynic would refer to as virtue staging. The realist might argue that it’s merely a dialect of the same dialogue that bars have always had with their customers.

It’s impossible to create a space that suits everyone, and pubs that attempt to do so typically wind up with no patrons. The greatest ones choose a visitor, visualize them well, and set up the lampshades appropriately. The rest of us enter, take the room’s temperature, and then decide whether to stay or go. This transaction is really old. Throughout, the decor has just kept score.

i) https://irishpubcompany.com/how-historic-pub-architecture-influences-modern-restaurant-design/
ii) https://freemontbuilding.com/blog/pub-interior-design-ideas/
iii) https://www.morningadvertiser.co.uk/Article/2019/02/11/How-has-pub-interior-design-changed/
iv) https://theclaytonhotel.com.au/how-pubs-have-evolved-from-their-traditional-roots-to-modern-day/