The Singapore Fringe Festival put out a call for help this week. The organisation — which has championed independent, non-mainstream theatre in Singapore for years — is crowdfunding for its 2027 edition after raising only a fraction of its target. Without public support, it might not happen.
The arts community rallied. People who care about independent theatre shared the campaign, donated, wrote about what the Fringe means to them. And buried in the responses was a sentiment that kept reappearing: “We don’t realise what we have until it’s gone.”
That line lands differently when you work in F&B.
The Same Maths, Different Industry
Independent arts organisations and independent restaurants are running the same numbers. Rising costs. Rents that don’t negotiate. Labour that’s harder to find and more expensive to keep. Funding (in the case of arts) or margins (in the case of food) that have been compressed to the point where there isn’t much left for error.
The Fringe Festival needs an audience that shows up and pays for tickets — not because they have to, but because they value what it represents. Independent F&B needs the same thing: people who choose to come in, order something, come back, and bring their friends. Not because there’s a deal on, but because they’ve decided this place is worth keeping alive.
Both are arguments about what kind of city you want to live in.
What Disappears When Independent Places Close
Singapore has lost a lot of independent F&B in the last few years. Some of it made the news. Most of it didn’t — a quiet announcement on Instagram, a last-service post, and then nothing. The building gets repainted. A chain moves in. The neighbourhood looks more or less the same, except the specific texture of that place — the regulars, the staff who’ve been there for years, the vibe that took time to build — is just gone.
Joo Bar has been building that texture in Bugis. It’s a Korean makgeolli bar — a specific concept, executed with care. The kind of bar where the staff know the menu properly and the drinks are designed, not assembled. The kind of place that takes a few visits to fully appreciate, which means the people who keep coming back are the ones who stayed long enough to get it.
Independent bars everywhere run on thin margins — the economics of doing it well in Singapore in 2026 are genuinely hard. Every table that fills, every round of makgeolli that gets ordered, every regular who comes back — it adds up to something that looks small but isn’t.
You Don’t Have to Crowdfund Your Bar Tab
The Fringe Festival needs donations. Joo Bar just needs you to come in. Bring someone who hasn’t been. Order the makgeolli flight if you haven’t tried it. Stay for one more round than you planned.
That’s not charity. It’s just choosing the right place to spend an evening.
The independent theatre people understand what happens when a city loses its independent spaces one by one. They’re watching it happen to their own industry. The independent F&B people understand it too. The way you answer it is by showing up — for the Fringe, and for the bars and kitchens you’d miss.
Joo Bar | Bugis, Singapore | Modern Korean makgeolli bar | joo-bar.com
