Back in the ’80s and ’90s, Chaps in Copley Square was Boston’s go-to for beer, peanut shells on the floor, and nights that stretched until the dawn. It wasn’t just a bar — it was the city’s unofficial gay clubhouse: Sunday tea dances, pounding discos, and a crowd made up of regulars, wanderers, and anyone who wanted to belong somewhere.
For many, Chaps was the first place they ever dared walk through the door. Under dim lights and throbbing speakers, friendships were forged, identities were discovered, and the awkward teenage yearnings finally felt less lonely — a soft-corner sanctuary before plastic Pride flags and cocktail menus.
