Find the unmarked black door at the corner of Saint-Amable and Saint-Vincent, ring the bell, and wait. Inside, an intimate room of exposed brick and steel beams sets the stage for a cocktail program built on seasonal invention—twists on classics alongside wholly original creations, all served with quiet precision.

The Coldroom has drawn its share of celebrities and cocktail obsessives since opening, but the appeal isn't exclusivity for its own sake. It's the craft: drinks that prioritize flavour and experience, served by staff who know what they're doing. Old Montreal has no shortage of atmosphere; this one earns it.

The red carpet in the alley is the tell. No password required—just follow it to a space inspired by French discotheques: dark walls, silver banquettes, glass ceilings, drama dialled up without tipping into costume. Award-winning mixologist Kate Boushel runs the cocktail program, and drinks like the 40 Thieves justify the reputation.

The menu borrows French brasserie staples from sister restaurant Foiegwa, and no reservations means busy nights come with a wait. ACC doesn't hide behind gimmicks; it earns its status through the glass. A hidden gem that's no longer much of a secret—but still delivers.

What started as a bespoke tailor shop added a 25-seat speakeasy through the coat check in 2015, and the acclaim came fast—fast enough to spawn a second location in Brisbane. The room is swanky, the ice crystal-clear, and the approach bespoke: no printed menu, just a conversation with bartenders who build drinks around your preferences.

Founder Andrew Whibley and team draw from pre-Prohibition classics—Martinez, Old Fashioned—while leaving room for invention. It's the speakeasy format done with real substance, where the hidden entrance is the least interesting thing about the place.

Behind the black curtain at Ryōshi, a small Japanese restaurant downtown, lies something more ambitious. Gokudo—from the team behind Escondite and Biiru—channels traditional Japanese bar culture through a sleek, modern lens: forest green leather, dim lighting, a striking tiger mural presiding over the room.

The cocktail menu draws from Japanese mixology traditions, favouring minimalism and precision over excess. Drinks are exquisite without being fussy; the atmosphere relaxed but unmistakably intentional. It's a speakeasy that earns the designation through craft rather than gimmick, and a standout addition to Montreal's late-night landscape.

The nondescript door on the corner of Saint-Laurent and Rachel has been easy to miss since 2011—and that's the point. Inside, a labyrinthine wrap-around bar glows with hundreds of candles, whiskey bottles hanging overhead, plush draped walls absorbing the noise of the room.

Co-owners André Nguyen and Julie Bisson built something intimate and sophisticated: a stellar whiskey and sake selection, house cocktails like the Tokyo Mule and Rum Sour, and a bottle-hanging service for regulars who've earned their place. It's a bar for dates, for slow nights, for people who appreciate craft without needing it announced.

David Schmidt, Alex San Gregorio, and Evan Cowie opened this tiki-inspired bar in a Chinatown basement in 2014; the new Saint-Alexandre Street location scales up without losing the vibe. Juliane Camirand's design balances plush velvet banquettes, warm hues, and subdued lighting across a room that now fits 160.

The cocktail program leans eco-conscious—fresh, homemade ingredients, drinks served in hollowed fruit—without sacrificing fun. DJ sets keep the energy up; the atmosphere stays welcoming. Le Mal Nécessaire helped redefine what a Montreal bar could feel like, and the move only sharpened the formula.

Tucked beneath Dorsia and crafted by WITH Hospitality, Bowie channels the spirit of elite private clubs without the velvet rope attitude. Dim lighting, plush surroundings, and an enforced dress code set the tone; the late-night menu pairs upscaled bites with classic and signature cocktails.

It's a subterranean enclave built for capping off evenings with a bit of polish—somewhere between downtown nightclub and members' lounge, with enough substance to justify the atmosphere. Bowie doesn't try too hard; it just commits to the premise and lets the room do the rest.

A black-lit staircase leads up to something unexpected: jungle terrarium skylights, vaporwave accents, neon-lit glass brick walls, and a marble bar anchoring a room that feels genuinely its own. Milky Way—part of the Barroco Hospitality Group—draws from tiki traditions and Latin American classics, with a cocktail menu featuring champagne reductions, toasted sesame oil, and other left-field ingredients.

Pizzas from Fugazzi downstairs make the case for staying late. The space is vibrant without being exhausting, eclectic without losing coherence. In Pointe-Saint-Charles, where options are still catching up to the neighbourhood, Milky Way stands out.

The game starts before you arrive: sign up for the newsletter to get the secret location, then find the "fourth wall" entrance and push through. Inside, a Prohibition-era fantasy unfolds—burlesque shows, live jazz, drawn curtains, bartenders dressed the part.

The founders include national cocktail championship titlists and the founder of L'École du Bar de Montréal, so the drinks hold up to the theatre. Le 4e Mur leans fully into the speakeasy mystique, but backs it with real craft. It's immersive in a way that rewards the effort of finding it—ideal for dates or nights when you want the city to feel a little less familiar.

Slip through the gold door behind Hà and enter something between fever dream and film set. Lantern-lit ceilings, lush fabrics, cocktails that veer from lychee and tea to foie gras and plum wine—Nhâu doesn't do subtle, and co-owner Nicolas Urli wouldn't have it any other way.

The drink list is sharp and weird, designed to surprise. DJ sets drift between disco, house, and ambient heat; the food—imperial rolls, fried broccoli, sticky wings—keeps you past midnight. This isn't just another speakeasy with mood lighting. Nhâu commits to the bit and pulls it off. You come here to forget what street you're on.

Below Tiradito on de Bleury, Club Pelicano leans hard into its swimming-pool inspiration—tiled walls, depth-marker details nodding to Montreal's old public baths and Paris's Piscine Molitor. But the atmosphere is built for DJ nights, late starts, and later endings.

The Tiradito team runs the bar, which means cocktails get proper care: pisco riffs, vermouth-driven mixes, a tight natural wine list. Mediterranean-leaning snacks round things out. Open a few nights a week, Pelicano has become downtown's unlikely neighbourhood bar—somewhere to slip in after work, stay longer than planned, and let the half-aquatic charm do the rest.

From the team behind wood-fired Pizzeria Magpie, this speakeasy-style offshoot takes a hard turn from the original concept. A red-lit entrance leads into a chic, semi-hidden room built for classic cocktails, sharing plates of mezze, and grilled seafood skewers—plus pizzas from the front when hunger calls.

Live music and performances fill the calendar; the atmosphere is sophisticated without being stiff. Magpie Magique works as a late-night destination where food and drink share equal billing, offering something anonymous and a little theatrical for those who know where to look.

Some bars wear exclusivity like a costume. Clandestino just disappears underground—literally. Hidden below Boho (itself tucked behind Venice MTL), this tequila and mezcal den plays the speakeasy game with more substance than shtick. Velvet armchairs, antique accents, candlelit corners, room for barely 30.

The real draw is the bar: over 100 agave spirits, mostly private imports, poured by the ounce or bottle or via curated tasting trays. The cocktail list leans inventive—fresh citrus, rare liqueurs, an almost obsessive reverence for salt. No password required, just curiosity and a taste for smoky, well-made things.

Open Thursday through Sunday, Le 404 operates on the logic of a quiet in-joke. The Old Montreal address hides behind a deliberately misleading front; inside, the room is intimate and dim—red velvet, marble surfaces, low lighting, a layout built for conversation.

The cocktail list favours balance and technique over novelty: modern classics, house originals, nothing trying too hard. A concise food menu—tartares, oysters, small plates—supports the late-hour rhythm.

Above Pub Saint-Pierre, Barrelmans carves out a quieter register for Old Montreal drinking. This cocktail and tapas bar trades the neighbourhood's usual high energy for something more composed: well-crafted classics, signature drinks, and a food menu that balances light bites with real care—oysters, tartares, ricotta baba ganoush, a meticulously layered potato tart.

The space is built for lingering, whether you're working through the cocktail list or settling into an unhurried evening of small plates. It shares an address with the pub below but stands entirely on its own—a more relaxed alternative to the late-night chaos nearby.

Hidden down an alley and behind a locked door, this subterranean speakeasy from the Cloakroom team trades on mystery but backs it with substance. Alain Carle Architecte designed the space around industrial memory: raw stone, steel beams, concrete shaped into something quietly theatrical. Two opposing bars, modular partitions, high benches built for slow reveals.

The cocktail menu centres on seasonal fruit—pineapple, tomato, pear, strawberry—used down to the rind in a push for sustainability without smugness. Natural wines, a few good beers, simple snacks like cheese and charcuterie. Stillife is part apothecary, part lab, part late-night confessional.

The 2018 reopening marked a clean break from the bar's rough-and-tumble dive past. What emerged—backed by the Big in Japan team and designed with architect Alain Carle—is something closer to European cabaret: deep red walls, velvet, gilded details, ceiling frescoes that make time feel elastic.

The focus is mood, and the room delivers. Cocktails, wine, and local beer anchor the menu at decent prices, but atmosphere does most of the talking. Vol de Nuit isn't trying to be a destination cocktail bar; it's a place to sink into a banquette, let the lighting do its work, and stay longer than planned.