When in Hong Kong
Someone was playing old Hong Kong film scores in the background during a team tasting. The haunting saxophones, the echo of footsteps in alleyways, the mood—that cinematic feeling you can’t quite describe but you know when you feel it. Someone poured a plum cocktail and said, “This tastes like In the Mood for Love.”
The idea stuck.
We started building a night that wasn’t just themed—it was transporting. Not a copy of Hong Kong, but a tribute to its rhythm, its palette, its mood. That’s how When in Hong Kong was born: one part cinematic, one part nostalgic, all Velvet Shaker.
Setting the tone: lights, film, energy
From the moment you walked in, you weren’t really at Velvet Shaker anymore. Red lighting washed over the walls like a busy street corner in Kowloon. Our mirrors fogged intentionally at the corners. Film stills were projected on textured surfaces—blurry, poetic, just enough to catch your attention.
We burned sandalwood and star anise at the door. Guests didn’t know it, but they were walking into a layered memory.
The soundtrack? A looping blend of 90s Cantonese love ballads, ambient traffic, and dialogue snippets from Wong Kar-Wai’s films. It didn’t demand attention. It lingered in the air like steam from a dumpling basket.
Cocktails that told stories in sips
We created five signature drinks just for this night. Each one named after a feeling, a street, or a time of day.
Midnight Temple: a bold mix of dark rum, lapsang souchong, and toasted sesame oil.
Neon Fade: lychee liqueur, coconut-washed gin, and butterfly pea flower foam.
Old Street Love: baijiu, rose syrup, lime, and five-spice bitters.
Lantern Alley: oolong milk punch with dried chrysanthemum petals.
After the Rain: plum wine spritz with umeboshi and a single drop of sesame oil.
They weren’t drinks you sipped fast. They made you pause, tilt your head, guess the ingredients, close your eyes. Some guests called it theatrical. Others called it romantic. One said it “tasted like a memory I didn’t know I had.”
“This one reminds me of eating mooncake in my grandma’s kitchen—with the windows open and the city roaring outside.”
—Guest comment on Old Street Love
We didn’t expect how emotionally people would respond. For some, it felt like a trip home. For others, it was a dive into a city they’ve only seen on screen. Conversations turned poetic. People talked about their childhoods, their first time in Asia, the way smell and music can time-travel you back in seconds.
Even our staff slowed down. The usual rush of service melted into a kind of shared pace. Like we were all waiting for something, or remembering something, together.
A night we’ll return to—someday
We don’t plan to repeat When in Hong Kong often. It feels like one of those things that needs the right timing. But the reaction was clear: people want more than cocktails. They want context. They want story. They want feeling.
And if a bar can offer that—even just for a few hours—then maybe it’s not just a bar anymore.
