Pony
Clandestine to a point, Pony Bar on Little Collins Street is filthy, sticky… and kind of cool, in a greasy, contaminated way. The lights are dim, the corduroy couches are threadbare in places, and the glasses are plastic. But that’s actually part of its charm. Pony was one of those bars my Emo friends loved to go to as soon as we turned eighteen, and while Pony does see a crowd of twenty somethings haunting its shady corners, the vibe is still very much the same. If you’ve never considered yourself a black ‘no one understands me’ sheep at one point in your life, then you don’t belong here.