There are two ways guests traditionally experience a restaurant for the first time. In some venues, diners walk first into a small vestibule, a precursor to the restaurant itself, before entering the main space. In others, they walk directly into the entrance and are immediately enveloped by all the sights, sounds and smells before them.
To create the right first impression, the most important thing to consider is what to communicate to the person upon entry, says Bill Sleeth, design principal, MG2, Seattle.
Juliet Hernandez-Eli, founder and owner, HE Architecture, New York City, likens arriving at a restaurant to arriving at a theater and because of this, she likes to create a sense of anticipation.
“First impressions are more about the overall general feel and setting the tone for the experience, and it tells you a lot about the restaurant,” says Anita Summers, principal, The Johnson Studio at Cooper Carry, Atlanta.
Vestibule as Introduction
Having a vestibule to stop in and transition from the street to the restaurant is more common in fine dining restaurants but certainly not exclusive to them. “It brings an opportunity to create a moment,” says Lance Saunders, associate, Stokes Architecture + Design, Philadelphia.
It’s also a chance to have some fun. Ryan Petyak, partner, //3877, Washington, DC, was part of a team that created The Naisho Room, a speakeasy in Tysons, Va. It was the 2026 rd+d award winner for Best Bar Design. He wanted the vestibule to feel like part of the fitness center of the hotel it’s within, so made it look like a sauna, which creates “some discomfort,” he says. “There’s that moment of uncertainty and then relief that you’re in the right place.”
The sauna-like space is completely different from the feeling guests get when they finally enter The Naisho Room. But that’s how it traditionally works with speakeasies, he explains, bringing a sense of excitement and surprise.
Petyak is a big fan of vestibules, even though restaurant owners often don’t want them because they may lose seats. That seating loss is minimal compared to the experience you can create for the guest with a lobby, Petyak says. You can provide something completely unusual like the spa, or you can provide hints of what’s to come as well as a peek into the dining room. He likes to use different types of glass, like reeded glass, that can distort images but give a preview of the dining room.
At Fino in Denver, as guests enter the vestibule from a hotel lobby, one side is made of glass blocks that give a deliberately distorted peek into the restaurant. That's the intention, says Abigail Plantier, founder and principal designer of hospitality design studio Maximalist, also in Denver. “This gives a little preview, and a bit of mystery.”
And from a practical standpoint, Plantier explains, a vestibule is a buffer against cold drafts coming in, customers shaking their umbrellas and the hustle of arrivals and departures, all of which makes for a better experience for those in the dining room.
As guests enter The Port of Call in Mystic, Conn., they immediately understand the concept because the initial lobby feels like the interior of a boat, complete with bookshelves filled with glassware, globes and knickknacks, all with brass rails to prevent items falling off in an ersatz storm, and a telegraph station host stand.
Velvet curtains and a small waiting area with upholstered chairs are a nod to the classic wooden yacht era of the 1920s through 1940s. “It’s a very different aesthetic than the contemporary yacht, which I wanted for the cozy feeling,” says Jennifer Pryor, co-founder and an independent designer. “It’s meant to be as welcoming as coming into someone’s home.”
Casa Cruz in New York City has a lobby on the first floor and an elegant curving staircase (and elevator) to take guests up to several floors of dining.
The lobby features marble floors in salmon pink and green accents, with an inlaid rose compass in two shades of green; green corduroy upholstered walls that bring some plushness to the space and absorb sound; columns made from copper sheet metal that are illuminated from behind, emitting a warm glow; and a mirrored host stand. The latter is intended to make guests think about their relationship with the space, says Hernandez-Eli, and the glossiness of the space is a contrast to the outside street.
Once inside, through the heavy Art Deco doors, the lobby is insulated from everything else “so it becomes a chamber of transformation,” Hernandez-Eli says. This vestibule, she points out, “immediately introduces you to a bit of a hush when the door closes behind you; there’s music so you’re immediately confronted with multiple senses that you might not consciously note but you feel this sense of enclosure.”