🕵️♂️ Tucked away on a quiet slope in São Paulo’s Pinheiros district, there once was a discreet bar that carried a curious name: The Spy Bar.
Back in the early 2010s, it gained modest attention on Brazilian forums — and I made sure to visit it during my scouting trip around the time of the 2014 World Cup. The name felt unusual, and so did the place. Smaller than the better-known venues like Scandallo or Café Photo, it had a charm of its own: cozy, dimly lit, and clearly designed for more private moments.
I arrived around 8:30 PM. Only one table had clients, and a handful of girls were already present — all unmistakably professionals. One in particular caught my attention: a classy blonde in a black cocktail dress and coat, her elegance matched only by the inviting curve beneath the fabric. Subtle, seductive, and clearly experienced.
The bar had a quiet energy, the kind of place where conversations were slow and glances said more than words.
Sadly, by 2016, it seemed to vanish. No new reviews. No updates.
Like many places in this world — it made its mark, then disappeared into memory.
We remember places like these not just for what they were… but for what they made us feel.