“It’s like drinking in someone’s living room.”
Those were the first words I ever heard used to describe the Lido as I stood amidst a crowd of East Van socialites gearing up to hit the town. The prospect of the Lido for a Friday night watering hole sounded enticing: it was close, unexplored, and, from what I heard, sounded low-key — a welcomed change of pace from my weekly excursions to the Biltmore. (I’m an addict.) And now, as a Lido veteran of many, many beers, it’s hard to remember what life was like before it sprung up just seven months ago.