fresh off a trip from the old empire, it was time to reintroduce myself to seattle and single-dom, a double ‘s’ threat as frightening as the schutzstaffel. equipped with the latest in euro-hosiery, i crashed some friends’ oyster eats and soon ended up in one of said friend’s newly relocated neighbourhood of greenwood. a microcosm much like west seattle or georgetown where us ausländers (read: eastsiders) dont hear much about, greenwood offers up its own local hangouts like the yard cafe – part mexican, part dive, very much frat-boy meets brunch bar. i can’t remember what caused me to ask, but upon inquiring about the origin of their bitters, the response was “the bitters factory”. at first taken aback, i realized i had it coming…i mean, i’m in a place that smells like industrial cleaner and tortas. valuable lesson of the night? don’t ask questions when the answer won’t change the outcome.
most of my friends are dudes, so you can imagine my hesitation when i got an email titled “HEY LADIES”, detailing a girl’s night out with all-but-one complete strangers. the location intrigued me though, so i picked up my southern confederate peachy lefevre and headed down to gainsbourg in the greenwood/phinney precinct. just off 99, this little french oasis is nestled in a string of taverns and karaoke bars (we’ll get to that later), in a locale that has a reputation for numerous arson cases in the last two decades. the menu featured typical franco-fare such as croques, steak frites, and the requisite cheese plate, but what wowed me was their extensive collection of apertifs. fernet, lillet, st. germain, aperol, campari…they had it all (as did we). and if that wasn’t enough cause for excitement, the hallway leading to the restroom presented a path of erotic paintings, each featuring a different sexual position. as the night rolled on, less than sensible decisions were made, the culmination being a rally to the karaoke bar a few storefronts down. there, the french 75s were born, and just a few of what would be many memorable moments that night included bribing the dj with panties and bracelets, two immaculate conceptions, and fans swooning as a frat boy leaped off the speaker wailing bohemian rhapsody. despite the obscure reference, ray parker jr. was onto something when he rode the coattails of his famed ghostbusters anthem and released “girls are more fun“.