Monday, October 15, 2007


Yep, it's that time again. Avoidance and escapism. And the outlet du semana is The Violet Hour. This is a bar, so its connection to escapism is not surprising. It is totally on the level of any of those cocktail places in NYC. I'm fucking obsessed with this place. No smoking. No cellphones. No texting. No douchebags. Well, some douchebags, but the douches are quickly identified and driven away. My favorite is when someone ordered a "Raspberry Stoli and VAHD-KA" and was told politely but tersely that they do not have raspberry stoli. What a fucking douche. You can have an expertly mixed cocktail made from housemade bitters, a special Peruvian rum, housemade ginger syrup, Noilly Prat, or armagnac (among many other options), and you pick "raspberry stoli and vodka?" GET THE FUCK OUT. And get the fuck out, they do. Not to borrow from Metromix, but it really does feel like you fall down the rabbit hole away from the banal masses and ye who drinks red bull and VAHD-KAS to a quiet, sultry, well-designed, well-executed Wonderland where Miller Light is not available. People dress up tastefully, people talk quietly, listen to conversation-level and well-chosen, eclectic music, and most importantly, the drinks are sublime. I mean I wore a fucking head-to-toe white suit (I've always wanted to try that look) and looked totally normal. The drinks range from frothy, spicy, sweet, but not overpowering, tasteful, aromatic, and are all made to order -- they are like [strong] works of art. And, not to sound like F to the E to the R-gie, but for once in my life, this weekend I was allowed to bypass a line and get in right away! Okay, yes, that probably had to do more with the fact that I was alone than anything else, but that was pretty cool, especially when bypassing the girls with the bitchy looks on their faces to get in. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I actually had fun sitting at the bar and talking to the bartender, who is a pretty cool dude and who recognized me right away. Is it problematic when bartenders begin to recognize you? Perhaps. I was meeting Patrick later so it's not like I frequent bars alone, but I'd like to be able to someday without feeling sheepish about it. I think my new obsession is cognac. I got a bottle of calvados and it is becoming the perfect autumn thing on ice. I need to tread carefully though, b/c as much as I enjoyed the VH on Saturday I spent most of Sunday feeling the effecstacy.

I finally began the application process for the NY Bar last week. It required nothing more than a certified check, a letter, an easy application, and a letter to my paperpushing school, but for some reason I feel like it was an accomplishment. It probably won't mean a goddamn thing, but at least it's pushing me in that direction. Fuck.


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