Whether it's due to the antiquated surroundings, the exquisite glassware, the dignified, professional service, or the rich boulevardiers lounging about who look like they cavort on yachts, pursue Princess Caroline, or have some sort of espionage in their past, drinks always taste better at fancy hotel bars. Some, such as Claridge's in London or the Danieli in Venice, have a cinematic aura, where the noise and chaos of the world is shut out and the only sounds you hear are the muffled clink of ice, the low murmur of foreign accents, or perhaps the tinkling of piano keys. "Whenever I go to the Oak Bar in the Plaza I feel like Dirk Bogarde in Death in Venice for some reason," muses New York screenwriter Ted LoRusso.

Lynn Turner, a Los Angeles artist visiting the fabled Algonquin Hotel, notes, "The best ones evoke an earlier time where men and women dressed for dinner and smoked cigarettes in long holders. The Algonquin is like that because its dark, smoky recesses lend a sense of intimate mystery to the experience." She doesn't mind that these days the Algonquin is patronized more by Broadway-bound tourists than witty Round Table literati. "I can pretend," she says.

It's possible to pretend anything in the right hotel bar--that you're rich or beautiful or madly in love or hiding out and assuming a new identity. No matter if it's a gilded salon in New York, Paris or Rome, you can easily imagine that you're somewhere else. Even though decent martinis can be found more cheaply at most local bars, there's nothing very special about the experience. The glassware is utilitarian and contending with jostling drunks, surly bartenders, uncomfortable stools, sticky tabletops, a loud jukebox or claustrophobic smoke does not spell relaxation. Paying twice the price (often $10 or more) for the same drink at a plush hotel bar is a civilizing and fanciful adventure. Alone, with a lover or a group of friends, lingering over a single delicious cocktail in an evocative atmosphere is truly an inexpensive way to travel.

Well-heeled hotel bars in New York:

Algonquin Hotel
(59 W. 44th St., 212-840-6800):
Elegant clusters of sofas and chairs, discreet service, and the dark and secluded Blue Bar for illicit romance.

Bemelman's, The Carlyle Hotel
(35 E. 76th St., 212-744-1600):
A serious gathering place whose mood is lightened by a tinkling piano and "Madeleine" author Ludwig Bemelman's whimsical drawings, circa 1947, dancing across the walls.

57 57, Four Seasons Hotel
(57 E. 57th St., 212-758-5700):
A towering I.M. Pei-designed aerie filled with wealthy cigar-smoking magnates sipping gorgeous--and obscenely priced--libations.

King Cole Bar, St. Regis Hotel
(2 E. 55th St., 212-339-6721):
Dominated by a vibrant Maxfield Parrish mural of the merry old soul and his jesters, it's sheer magnificence with velvety banquettes, beautiful woodwork, a tony crowd and fabulous glassware.

Mark's Bar, The Mark
(25 E. 77th St., 212-879-1864):
A small English parlor in chintz and forest green, filled with a cultured, literary set speaking in hushed tones.

Oak Bar, The Plaza Hotel
(768 Fifth Ave., 212-546-5330):
A grand, handsome setting distinguished by formal service, catering to robber barons, high-maintenance women and the knowing glances between them.