There’s a certain chemistry you feel when you stumble into a place that gets it right. The music hums in your bones, the bartender slides a drink your way like you’re the only one there, and for a fleeting moment, Manhattan’s ceaseless buzz fades into a soft pulse. That’s what’s waiting at Hello Hello, the new bar and café opening July 9th in Chelsea. It’s a love letter to New York’s dual personalities: the raucous dive and the polished cocktail den, each borrowing a little soul from the other.
Founded by hospitality heavyweights Luis Hernandez, Brendan Bartley, and Robert Nieves—names that resonate across some of the city’s best bars—Hello Hello promises a space where the lines blur between morning caffeine rituals and midnight revelry. By day, it’s a breezy café pouring thoughtful coffee drinks like the Guava & Olive Oil Latte (yes, you read that right) alongside pastries from Colson Patisserie. By night, it transforms into a bar that somehow manages to pull off a vodka Red Bull on draft (made with clarified cucumber and green apple juice, chamomile syrup, and Perrier Ultimate) without an ounce of irony—and make it taste damn good.
Coffee is the heartbeat of Hello Hello. There’s an all-day Espresso Martini that anchors the menu like a reliable friend at the end of a long night, made with their house-distilled coffee liqueur. That same liqueur slips into drinks like the Irish Tiramisu and French Carajillo, reinforcing the bar’s caffeinated DNA. “Coffee runs through everything we’re doing,” says Bartley, and you believe him—this isn’t just a menu gimmick but a mission statement.





Behind the scenes, the team is a who’s who of New York cocktail royalty. Hernandez, known for Seamstress NYC and Ume Plum Liqueur; Bartley, longtime beverage director at Bathtub Gin and co-owner of Bonne Vie Armagnac; and Nieves, a partner at LIC’s Record Room and veteran of Bacardi and Ten to One Rum. Add master distiller Sammer Aboelela and consultant Dave Oz (of Bathtub Gin fame), and you’ve got a team with the chops—and the audacity—to make it work.
The cocktails themselves read like a travel diary scribbled in the margins of a well-worn book. The Talented Mr. Banner combines Cognac, Hpnotiq, green banana, lychee, matcha orgeat, and pink peppercorn, somehow weaving it all into something that feels both sophisticated and slightly mischievous. The Pornstar Daiquiri reimagines a classic with Palo Santo Ten to One Rum, passionfruit, Empirical Symphony No. 9, soursop, lemongrass, and olive oil. Nothing here is dressed up for show; every element is there because it belongs. “If it’s in the glass, it’s there for a reason,” says Nieves, distilling the entire approach into one sharp line.
The physical space feels like a bar you might have dreamed up after too many Negronis on a sticky summer night. Designed by West Chin Architects & Interior Designers, it nods to 1970s New York with Sapele wood paneling, a Verde Lapponia stone bar top, red-orange shelving, and a neon “Hello Hello” sign that’s as warm as it is cheeky. A wall of retro speakers and brass accents hint at the venue’s deeper commitment to sound. Music is more than just a backdrop here—there’s a custom DJ booth, high-end audio system, and a serious schedule of guest DJs planned from Thursday to Saturday, eventually expanding to daily sets.
“It’s not about showing off or making a statement—it’s about whoever’s sitting at the bar and giving them a great night,” Nieves explains. That might be the closest you’ll get to a mission statement at Hello Hello: come as you are, stay as long as you like, and leave a little happier than you came in.
Hello Hello will be walk-ins only, though large groups can snag limited reservations. Bar hours run Monday through Wednesday from 5pm to 1am, and Thursday through Saturday until 2am. The café keeps it rolling from 7am to 5pm, Monday through Saturday.
For more details, visit hellohellobarandcafe.com and follow along on Instagram at @hellohellobar.
Hello Hello isn’t just another Chelsea bar—it’s the new heartbeat of a neighborhood that never quite stops moving, even when it slows down just enough to raise a glass.