A respite from the neon lights and pounding noise of the streets. A meeting place for old friends or a crossroads for chance encounters. A hideaway for slow coffee drinkers and home to the best, or worst, fry in town - depending on who you talk to.
Bewley's means different things to different people. But one thing nostalgic customers agreed upon yesterday was that Dublin will be much diminished without it.
"It's extremely sad. Real Dublin is going fast," said Ms Eileen Hughes (76), from Rathfarnham, who visited the Grafton Street outlet "for my last cup of coffee".
A lot of people will miss it, especially older people. We'll miss the staff because they're always courteous, and we'll miss just being able to come in and take the weight off your feet."
Also calling into the café "for old time's sake" was Mr Michael Oglesby (80), from the Liberties, who recalled standing as a child outside the original Bewley's Oriental Café on South Great George's Street and "smelling the roast of coffee wafting out".
"Those were the war years and we couldn't afford coffee but I remember the smell of it," he said.
"Everything is closing down now. I hardly recognise the city anymore."
Amid the clink of coffee cups and clatter of trays, staff and customers consoled one another over the loss.
It was hard to tell who was taking it worse - the workers who described Bewley's as one of the best employers in town or the many regulars who would while away an afternoon over a mug of coffee and a sticky bun.
"A lot of people treated Bewley's like their sitting room," said Mr Paddy Campbell, father figure of the enterprise, whose money rescued the cafés from collapse 18 years ago. "Those people will be, you could almost say homeless, because there is nowhere else you can go and dwell a while, or have a little holiday in your day."
Ms Frances Humphries, who has worked in the cafés for 22 years, recalled such customers fondly, particularly those who cried blue murder "if you tried to take away a cup with the tiniest dribble in it".
"The only way of getting thrown out would be to assault a member of staff," she joked, adding: "There were a lot of red eyes this morning. Some of the regulars could not even talk to me they were so shocked, and we had to sit some of the staff down with a cup of coffee for a cry."
Among those fighting back the tears was Mr Campbell himself who described the decision as "like a death in the family". He was moved as he recalled the expressions of "support and goodwill to me and the family" at Thursday's crisis meeting with staff.
"People who know me know that I kicked hard against even the thought of considering closure of the cafés. But yesterday I proposed the decision because it wasn't making any sense for the business."
What now for the famous Harry Clarke windows, the marble tables, and wooden chairs? Mr Campbell admitted a frenzy "almost like looting" had begun. While some mugs were reportedly walking out the door yesterday, others were being obtained legally at the shop counter.
"I've bought four," said Ms Vivienne Sainsbury, from Terenure. "It's very sad. Look at the streets. Look at all the shops. Look at Dublin now. Where's the character?"
