The days of ashtrays bolted beside the pub’s front door are gone. Outside spaces are now places we want to be, writes Stephen Bourke
In 2004 the smoking ban arrived and the hospitality sector’s response was expedient, utilitarian, and often literally bolted onto the wall. But now we’re starting to see bolder, integrated design that makes it appealing to be out of doors.
The prediction at the time was that pub smokers would quit, or smokers would quit the pubs.
RTE spent most of its report on the first day of the ban talking to those holding it together over their pints indoors, before a brief cutaway to the irredeemables gathered around wrought-iron tables outside.
The stainless-steel ash bin on the wall by the pub door defines attitudes of the time; as if bolting an ashtray to the wall would fix customers there too.
But ultimately, publicans, restaurateurs and hoteliers are in the business of comfort – take as proof the surcharge levied by more traditional establishments on drinks in the lounge.
They were faced with the fact that a third of their drinkers were out in the cold. The business owners who innovated, and looked to their customers’ comfort outdoors, would have the upper hand in the years ahead.
“I remember the smoking ban coming in and I remember all the negativity around it, especially in the licensed trade,” said Ruairi O’Connor, general manager of Cork’s River Lee Hotel.
“I think everyone got aboard with it eventually, but the smart people got ahead of the game and created inventive outside spaces.”
The River Lee Hotel was built in 2006 on the site of the former Cork Jury’s Inn. It looks out over the south channel of the River Lee, just at the point where the trees along the banks yield to the city centre.
Although the hotel already had parasols and patio heaters for smokers on its terrace, there was room for improvement.
“We all knew it was probably the best terrace space in the city,” O’Connor said, “but how could we capitalise on that?”
Alas, the smokers were pushed aside again. Glazed walls, a paved floor and a retractable roof define the space as part of the outdoors, begging for a warm night, but regulations mean the terrace counts as an enclosed space unless the roof is open. The new terrace does a lot to soften the blow – going outside is far more gradual a process.
Rowland Henderson, a carpenter based in Newmarket, Co Kilkenny, built the solid cedar furniture. The sofas, the rough finish on the tables, and the retro vintage filament bulbs strung out across the ceiling give the space a warmth that is a welcome relief from the corporate primness of the average Celtic Tiger-era hotel.
The terrace is wired for a DJ, and O’Connor has big plans for this in the summer.
“Not blow-your-head-off [music], but maybe cool lounge evenings . . . What we want is to keep that kind of relaxed, after-dinner sort of cocktail-y feel to it. You wouldn’t want to crank it up too much.”
Spaces like the Terrace prove Irish tastes now extend beyond the door of the pub.
“Fifteen years ago we’d never have dreamed of having a meal outside in, let’s say, March,” said O’Connor.
“That whole change has brought us outside, as consumers, a lot more.”
Hoteliers not demand that architects of new venues have to fully integrate the outdoors into their designs.
Spaces in Dublin like the Bernard Shaw on Camden Street or House on Leeson Street are prime examples of how publicans are now taking the inside out.