What if I told you there was a discreet, licensed diner up the Darlinghurst end of Oxford Street that looks as though it’s been transported direct from Williamsburg circa 1947? You’d probably laugh at the hipster connotation that conjures, but stay with me here.

 

I’m talking black and white linoleum floors, a rich dark timber bar riddled with decades’ worth of history, a teak credenza in one front window housing a vintage typewriter, an assortment of cakes and tarts that look like they’ve been baked with love by your grandmother in the other front window, a menu full of unpretentious, well-priced meals, and most importantly, a shelf full of carefully categorised vinyl categorised in decades from the 1950s onwards, and an old record player spinning anything from Fleetwood Mac to Santana and James Brown.

 

On paper it might sound a bit cliché, but, it just… works. And in a city, nay, postcode that is dripping in hipster artifice, it’s kind of refreshing to find a place that’s feels authentic, y’know? Even the façade, with it’s brown exterior and muted neon sign looks like it’s been stolen from a sepia-tined Polaroid.

 

Whether you’re huddling into a green vinyl booth for a serve of sautéed mushrooms and feta on toast, sipping beers and scarfing eggplant foccacia at lunch, or enjoying a nice bottle of red with a plate of arancini and a whopping serve of lasagne like your mamma makes it, The Falconer is the kind of place you’ll want to stay at for a while. And return to, time and time again.