Bittersweet nostalgia: a retro bar inspired by the Seventies opens in the heart of Naples

The bar, just a bar. It sounds strange, but neither the definite nor the indefinite article seem to be used anymore. It's as if no one has simply gone to a bar for at least two decades. Now it’s all about Alfredo bar&tapas, Gigi’s spritz, or George fine drinking. Among the many new ways of living and socialising, this stands out: where there was once the simple act of “going to the bar” to have a chat with fellow patrons, now there’s an insatiable need to define something new, to name a venue, to frame it as an “experience” — something to substantiate our identity as part of a group of regulars.

Of course, Naples is no stranger to these dynamics. The old steel-frame bar chairs have been swallowed up by velvet sofas, crowding the city’s posh living room areas in a state of laissez-faire visible in the oversized plastic cups brimming with drinks throughout the historic centre.

A change in drinks that seemed inevitable

And yet, as a backlash to this new era, perhaps the switch in both seating and sipping has already worn thin. After all, those simple chats in a nondescript bar weren’t so bad. That’s why, on Via Santa Chiara — right in the heart of the old town — someone’s trying to put words back at the centre of the counter. Five friends had the idea of creating an honest space. “We wanted to lower the expectations a bit,” says Marco, one of them. And Bar Viper, at number 18, might just be seen as a sort of totally informal new wave — a fresh hope for the simple bar.

“Viper doesn’t mean anything, or at least nothing all that special”… But doesn’t the sound have a Seventies ring to it? James Bond-style cocktails? Because that would already imply it’s meant to be something specific… “Yes,” Marco admits, “we were actually inspired by the names bars were given in the Seventies: Viper, Planet, or Mondial — they were chosen at random, but they gave off an international flair.”

So Viper reveals itself on the street with a small shopfront and a crisp neon sign that simply reads “Bar”. The interior looks unchanged since at least the early Sixties, with the classic rush-seated chairs of suburban bars and steel tables — perfect for a card game. On the front window, opposite the counter, instead of the Wi-Fi password, there’s a sign that reads “air-conditioned premises” — a reminder of what was once a luxury and is now a given.

The return of the neighbourhood bar

“We were all feeling a bit nostalgic for the days when you just went to the bar. You didn’t think about drinking — only about meeting someone.” And it’s no accident that the counter here defies the trend of trying to make mixology history. A Moretti beer tray sits in full view, holding an Americano and a Sbagliato ready to be served. “We want people to walk in and order their usual — it’s our way of saying you should feel at home here. While you greet the faces at the bar, someone’s already reaching for the bottles to make your usual.”

“We haven’t invented anything — we’ve just figured out, perhaps, what it was we were missing. And we went back in time to find it again.”

A bar that, in its own way, saves Naples by restoring the social value such places once had. It was a simple process: you sat down and ordered, and the conversation flowed from philosophy to football, the clock ticking away with each round of amari. “Today, who even socialises in a bar? All that’s left is its cult status, but not its cultural function.” And so those retro signs scattered around the room, between ‘nostalgia’ and ‘patience’, become an invitation to look within — and, in front of the counter, to rekindle a forgotten conviviality.

Italian aperitivo (complete with vintage prices)

The Italian aperitivo is back: the old-school bar sport, the place for ‘cicchetti’, the spot where you randomly bump into a friend and end up spending the whole evening.

Everything at Viper is simple — including the prices. “The basic drink is six euros,” and it comes with equally simple food like a rosetta roll filled with cicoli and ricotta, or provola and mortadella — making this bar a truly secular place for everyone. Downstairs, there’s a little DJ booth and a stack of sofas ready to form a circle when the projector’s on: “We use it to watch Napoli matches all together.” A revival of socialising — without social media.

And for those who want a keepsake of a good night out, there’s a photobooth smack in the middle of the room — a true boomer-style gimmick. Close your eyes, think back to the times when going to the bar just meant seeing friends — and say cheese.