“There are people that don’t have somewhere to go home for the holidays, and that space becomes their home, and they build that relationship with bartenders, and so having that safe space has become very important for me.” Misster, with customers coming in around the holidays and asking if they would be open. Misster, and he hopes to offer the same experience at Sir, creating a space for customers to feel at home, a place to go that encourages a safe and communal feel. Trey says that the nature of the business being family-owned-and-operated seeps into the culture of Mr. I love the city I found the space it looks like it could work out cost-wise we can afford to do it, like, what do you think?’ He’s like, ‘Yes.’ So, it’s a good, mutual collaboration, but we kind of both have our lane so it works well from that aspect as well,” Trey says. “I’m more the ideas man, and more of, like, on-paper kind of guy, so I said, ‘I found this. Not only that, but he also saw that the LGBTQ community in Denver felt similar to the one back home in Dallas, which boasts one of the largest LGBTQ populations in the country and an environment Trey says is comfortable enough to “walk down the street and hold a boyfriend’s hand” as a man, which isn’t necessarily the case in other Texas communities. Misster in Dallas, Trey visited Denver for the first time and immediately felt at home. I’m like, ‘What?’ And he knows what poppers are, and someone told him what a top and bottom is … So it’s an adjustment to say the least, because I think, especially being, you know-when you’re in the closet and then you’re trying to hide, and then they just like, know the gay dictionary, it’s like, ‘Who taught you that?’” Trey laughs.Īs they continued operating Mr. “My dad has, like, this gaggle of gay friends now that goes out with him.
Though running an LGBTQ bar with his father sometimes comes with its own surprises, and Trey says he is occasionally taken back by how comfortable his father has become as an ally to the queer community. “I feel like I can tell him anything, and he truly is my best friend, to where he does know every facet of my life.” “It’s very cool because I know I’m in a fortunate position, to where I have such a supportive father, and I’m very grateful for the way our relationship has grown doing this,” Trey says. Trey recounts the experience of running an LGBTQ business with his father graciously, cementing his gratitude to share this part of himself with a supportive parent. Misster was born as a father-son business venture, aimed to provide a new space to better represent the Dallas LGBTQ community. “I just knew what kind of environment and space I wanted to make, so I really went to him and I was like, ‘Listen, I have this idea-I’ll go with or without you-but do you wanna do this with me?’ and he was like, ‘Yeah, sure.’” He approached his father, who owned restaurants through Trey’s childhood and knew the ins and outs of running a business, with a new idea. Misster opened, Trey went out with his friends in Dallas and consistently struggled with finding an LGBTQ spot where they could go and feel comfortable, a place that accurately represented their proud, exuberant, queer community. Misster-are gearing up to open their brand-new, LGBTQ bar, Sir, in Downtown Denver at 1822 Blake St., where Vesta operated for more than 20 years before shutting down due to the COVID-19 pandemic.īack in 2019, before Mr.
It’s a busy, back-and-forth time in late September, as Trey and his father, Tyler-current business partners at their Dallas bar, Mr. “It’s an easy flight though, so I don’t mind it.” “I’ve been here the last four days, and I’m going back to Dallas tomorrow, and then back here again next week,” he says. Trey Stewart, co-owner of Denver’s newest LGBTQ bar, Sir, is situated front-and-center as his Zoom camera pops on, part of Denver’s skyline peeking through the window behind him.