North of Marshall

It's 10:38 pm, the sun has set on the city. The crowd is well-dressed, martini glasses or Pilsner glasses in hand. Dates lean over Anthropologie-esque oil candles on two-top tables while a bachlorette party collects on a leather couch, stacking up one empty shot glass after another. The crowd is noisy but not overbearing, and the music a perfect complement. Photographs of the city reflected in windows and caught by the eye of the artist adorn the walls, but the rest of the decor is sparse, urban and clean.

Noma, thank you for coming to Winston. You make Fridays a little bit more lovely.