ollege Street being what it is—a multifarious lineup of eateries and bars— has become somewhat segregated by Bathurst street, which flanks the region between cheap and chic. Situated to the University of Toronto, the east resounds with the phenomenal student-effect, where food and drink can be had at no great cost, lest the pupils forgo learned books in tribute/sacrifice to the god of getting one’s drink on.

Idolatry aside, if the name is any indication of its purpose, Nirvana extinguishes the ephemeral flame of desire and suffering (and perhaps even individual consciousness) in its new abode on College.

Once KOS, then Picadilly, the space has diverged entirely from the previous greasy spoon theme. Emulating the Red Room to a certain degree, but sleeker and more refined, Nirvana harmonizes chill ambiance and diverse eats with thrift prices. The interior is a darkened den; a pastiche of garage sale thrown-togetherness that is well arranged into booths, thick wooden slabs with adjoining pews, and single table seating, ranging from black to chocolate to natural contrasts.

Riddled with Buddhist and Hindu iconography, the air is filled with electronic soul’s melodic down-tempos. The tabletops are graced by white daisies floating in watery cups. The ceiling holds a motley of chandeliers, modern and classic, and the large room is filled with soft lighting that translates hues of blue, red, and orange.