Sundays in New York have always carried a certain rhythm—a slow unfurling after the chaos of a Saturday spent on the move, a pause before the week ahead. But at The Django, the cadence has shifted—we’re trading our lazy brunches for something far more decadent: the Sunday Matinee.

Every Sunday afternoon, as the city above hums with errands and early evening plans, The Django opens its doors to a subterranean escape. At 2:30 p.m., and again at 4:00 p.m., the vaulted ceilings and exposed brick walls vibrate with the sound of live jazz. Ensembles like the Emily Braden Quartet or the Loston Harris Trio carry the room into another register entirely—one that seemingly transports you straight to a Parisian jazz club from another time.

The effect is not accidental; modeled after the intimate boîtes of Paris, The Django is part Parisian hideaway, part New York institution. By night, it is a charged, nocturnal haven—with performances from 7:30 p.m. until late drawing a crowd of devotees who crave the syncopation of jazz and the thrill of a room alive with it. But by day, the club reveals another personality. The lights are bright enough to remind you it’s still afternoon, yet inside it feels as though you’ve entered a secret—a world that is at once timeless and slightly illicit, like sipping champagne before dinner.

 

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Drinks are a ceremony in themselves. A mimosa or a coffee may feel familiar, but here they take on new life—accented by the notes of a piano. Those looking for something more adventurous will find it on the cocktail menu: the Yardbird is a tiki-inspired concoction that tastes like travel in a glass—or, if you’re not yet ready for alcohol so early in the day, the Martino is a take on an espresso martini that will keep you buzzing without tipping you over. Each sip feels curated to match the soundtrack of the afternoon.

And then there is the food. Though you’ll find crab cakes and tuna tartare, The Django’s sprawling cheese board is a great way to set the tone. And if you’d like to lean into Django’s Parisian alter ego, their burger is a classic with pommes frites—and a plant-based version for those who lean veggie. But don’t forget to try the pink peppercorn Bucatini Cacio e Pepe—a dish that playfully bridges Italy and France in equal measure. Whether you call it a late brunch or an early dinner, the dining experience is designed to feel unrushed, indulgent, and just a little bit decadent.

Of course, none of this would matter without the music. Anchored by a state-of-the-art Meyer Sound system, each performance becomes an immersive journey. The acoustics amplify not just the notes but the atmosphere—every chord reverberating against the vaulted ceilings, every lyric floating through the air like smoke. The Django is not simply a backdrop for jazz; it is an instrument in its own right.

What makes the Sunday Matinee Jazz Brunch singular is its blend of contradiction: casual yet refined, decadent yet approachable, indulgent yet restorative. It is a space where you can nurse a coffee or toast with champagne, where you can arrive solo and feel at home—or bring friends and feel transported. It is, in essence, New York at its best—cosmopolitan, timeless, and always just a little unexpected.

Tickets are $25 per person, with a two-drink minimum—an invitation to let the afternoon unfold without agenda. By nightfall, when the city above resets for the week ahead, you will have already traveled: to Paris, to another era, or to another state of mind. And that’s what we call decadent dining at its best.

Take a look at the full jazz lineup—here. 

WORDS Hillary Sproul