Skinny jeans can be a struggle. They have a way of making a man realize a long time has passed since they actually fit, or were popular. This, of course, is a hypothetical that will never resonate with me or my companion, Mr. Harada. We have, do, and always will look good in skinny jeans, no matter fickle fashion fads or doctors’ warnings.

We are comfortable in the tightness of our skinny jeans, and how they hold us in solemn comfort, like old friends during a season-ending rerun of “Friends.” (Stuff always got real at the end of a “Friends” season.) This is why we call our pantalones, “Cinebars.”

Of all the watering holes Mr. Harada and I have dragged our knuckles in, our presence rippling through the room long after we’ve left, Cinebar in downtown San Jose is more like home than any other. As far as “local” bars go, it’s the old friend that can disappear for months, but the camaraderie always returns in an instant.

The Cinebar vibe is similar to the 2001 independent film, American Astronaut, which made nearly every corner of outer space look like a thoroughly worn-in tavern. That’s Cinebar, an intergalactic Greyhound, packed with adventurers of all brands looking for new horizons. The crowd tends to be young, old and everything in the middle. It’s a place where vagabonds have well-rounded conversations with professors. It’s where a doctor will buy an artist a shot and a beer, out of respect, admiration and reverence.

Recently, the long room got a makeover. But not to worry those who haven’t visited their old friend in a long time. It’s still skinny and tight. The mythical odor has been removed, as has the vintage Cinebar musk. The ceiling has been raised, but the beer continues to be affordable. The black and white murals are gone (all went to good homes), and the fresh black paint on the walls retains that old Cinebar feeling. A trio of local entrepe-doers purchased the business and all signs point to continued success.

The three new owners should be familiar to those who have haunted Cinebar in the past decade or so. They include: Stacy, a plucky gal who won’t hesitate to smack beers out of a heffalump’s hands if he falls out of line; Mike, a man who once was crazy and then just angry, so his nickname never changed; and Josh, the guy who wields the biggest cleaver in San Jose during the day (Bray@SPS). I don’t recommend testing any of them.

For the religious, Cinebar has its very own, personal, Jesus. Leonard is there, too. The MVP team is rounded out behind the bar by Javier, Chris and James. Lateef and Miki keep the riff raff out, so please refrain from mentioning me or Mr. Harada when entering this establishment.

A paint job, deep cleaning, and new jukebox (top 40 now available) might suggest a new attitude at Cinebar, but one law of the land will never change: No dancing.

69 E. San Fernando St., San Jose.