If you find yourself feeling as though you were born in the wrong decade, longing for the pompous speakeasy of Sinatra?s days where the clientele won?t actually make you lose hope in humanity and you can get lost in the sultry notes of a jazz singer from a smoky leather arm chair, then Downing Street is as close as your going to get. Sure, it?s not Harry?s or quite pre-killjoy NYC regulation bars, but hell, we live in Houston and this is our great bar.
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