NIVEK REMAS

The film’s deliberate pacing, saturated palette, and unspoken longing find their echo in the restaurant’s interior: velvet shadows fall across lacquered tables, and oversized red lanterns – inked with calligraphy – glow like stills suspended in time. The effect is sultry and hypnotic, a pavilion caught between dream and memory. Honey’s is not merely themed – it’s thematic. Each design decision is narrative-driven, each corner an act of cinematic intimacy.

Mural walls recall both propaganda posters and hand-painted opium dens, capturing the tension between tradition and transgression. With brick and dark wood framing the space, and green lattice screens casting geometric shadows, the architecture feels like a film set where stories are waiting to unfold. Bar shelves shimmer with bottles behind gilded screens, a nod to the blurred lines between indulgence and secrecy – a motif both in Chinese heritage and in the aesthetic of Wong Kar-wai’s world.

This is a space layered with nuance: a reflection on the opium-era past, a flirtation with rebellion, and a sensory love letter to Chinese culture. Like Maggie Cheung’s qipaos brushing past Tony Leung in a narrow stairwell, the design here is textured with restrained desire. Even the umbrellas suspended above the bar – delicate, traditional, disarming – whisper of places long gone but never forgotten.