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The sloe gin fizzes arrive, making no sound as they are set down on the stainless bar counter, by virtue of thick rubber coasters. The drink’s creamy foam radiates monochromatic light, emitted by a ceiling-mounted Nec projector. A blonde woman with an aerodynamic haircut sweeps by and elegantly takes seat on a canted monolith of vaguely geometric design, upholstered in emerald green velvet.

There is a pleasant bronze hue to the room, achieved by well-placed lighting and a palette of saturated grays. Muted and calm, without being sedated, the interior counterbalances the bold furniture. Even the curiously bulbous animals, made from brown leather, that lurk in the bar’s shadows seem to join the general atmosphere of well-behaved lavishness.

Sudden Jazz fills the room. A well-groomed trio left its place and three partially empty Screwdrivers across the bar, positioning itself in the far corner. The drummer is playing brushes, shuffling along to thick, meandering incarnations of cool jazz clichés, not at all unpleasant. Patrons shift focus back to drinks and acquaintances, treating the music as an immaterial extension of the bar furnishing.

A silver-haired man in a wide-lapeled suit reaches over from his armchair to thoroughly extinguish his Cohiba in a crystal ashtray, his gaze lingering in the blonde woman’s eyes, her collarbones and chest before reclining, largamente, into velvet. Time oozes on, in the most delightful of ways.

• Stue Bar, Schöneberg, Berlin.