(FORTUNE Magazine) – "Usually, you take your first sip of a martini and it's like, eeww," Dov Eisenberger is saying one Friday after work between sips of his second gin and lemonade. He is relaxing at the bar of John Allan's hair salon, an old-fashioned, high-end barbershop in downtown Manhattan where a man can spiff up his appearance and still feel like a man. Between his haircut and hot toweling, the 32-year-old benefits consultant is trying out the new Damrak gin that Remy Amerique is there to promote. "I took a sip and thought, 'I'm going to need another one--fast!'" Eisenberger immediately takes another drink, his third. "Usually there's a bite or an aftertaste. This doesn't have it." He asks for one on the rocks. "Usually gin is impossible to drink just straight, but this goes down easy. I would definitely use this as an opener. I would suggest it to friends. Hey, can I have another?"

Why, certainly. As a 25-to 35-year-old who picks up $400 to $500 bar tabs for friends every three months or so, Eisenberger is exactly the sort of gentleman Remy wants to convert to gin--a spirit that his generation, raised on sweetened beverages, has largely scorned as something to be endured more than enjoyed. Gin sales have tanked 15% since 1992, according to a study by Impact Databank, while vodka sales have climbed 10%. To get that sinking line rising, Remy must convince people like Eisenberger that gin--a drink with medicinal origins distilled from a berry, juniper, that tastes like a pine cone--is yummy. Even before it's mixed with pink lemonade, Damrak has a fruity zing, while rival Beefeater's new variant, Wet, tastes like pear. Remy has walked oversized poodles through the streets of New York bearing the Damrak logo. Wet's kickoff parties featured Marilyn Manson's girlfriend performing burlesque in a giant martini glass--a backdrop Dad never had when ordering his London Extra Dry.

"The 45-plus crowd already has a taste for Tanqueray, which has a strong juniper taste," says Nicolas Guillant, Damrak brand manager. "This is a new alternative to vodka." If Eisenberger's response is any indication, Remy is on to something. It's not even five o'clock, and Eisenberger is on his fourth lemonade. "It would be my fifth or sixth if we weren't talking," he notes. By his own reckoning, Eisenberger spends $4,000 on alcohol he serves in his home each year, so the $29 that Damrak asks per bottle seems a downright bargain. In fact, he tries to buy a bottle on the spot, but sadly it's not yet for sale. When he disappears for his hot toweling, he brings two drinks with him.

His friend, a bond trader for Prudential, offers a few thoughts of his own. "Has my opinion of gin changed in the near term? I don't know. But my opinion on high-quality gin has changed."

"Let's drink to that!" exclaims Eisenberger. He's back from the hot toweling and looking to send his friend on an errand to the bar: "Can you get me two more?" --Ellen Florian