Through BarFly's colourful history we've detailed the importance of having a bar you can call your own; in short, a local. A joint you can stumble to and stumble from without so much as a short-trip Metcard to bother your back pocket, a satellite living room you can conduct your social business from within, somewhere the idea of saying, "The usual, thanks," wouldn't be met with derision or a pamphlet for AA.

Residents of Carlton North have another potential favourite to add to their list, with Nicholson Street's seemingly unassuming Bar Fred, another of those city-fringe bars whose no-nonsense exterior will keep the regulars happily ensconced.

Tucked in the outer reaches of the main Nicholson Street strip among the dusty chemists, bargain stores and mysterious coffee lounges, you could walk right past Fred if it wasn't for the fact there are usually a handful of stylish types 'aving a wheeze on the footpath. Its low-lit interior is as welcoming on a chilly evening as it is at the end of a long, hot day (both of which have been entertaining our wardrobes lately).

The bar itself is a focal point in the midst of a long room that was likely once a shop and sold continental meats or men's sandals. Fred stocks a good range of wines and spirits (and tasty food to boot) but, as seems to be becoming the norm in this decade, the drinks list shines in the beer department.

Once upon a time you'd feel spoiled if a bar had Carlton and Coopers on tap and maybe Corona in the fridge, if you were really lucky. Bar Fred may not yet be matching, say, Lambsgo for sheer breadth of beer choices but they've come up with a carefully chosen and appealing selection that goes beyond the usual suspects.

Once you've chosen your tipple, Fred shines as a place to sink into your own little world to relax. Although some nights are busier than others, Fred is a bar that excels as a home away from home, a booze-serving refuge where conversation and contemplation are part of the scenery.

The layout is not so much a continued communal space as it is little pockets of stools, tables and chairs, with enough space between each that even on busy nights you still feel as though your personal bubble is intact. Potted plants and sparse sprinklings of op-shop ephemera add to the little bar around the corner atmosphere. And if you are lucky enough to live around the corner, you could be forgiven for finding yourself propping up the bar from Tuesday to Sunday. After all, you'll save on washing-up time.