A Girl Walks Into A Bar

Oslo

By Moira Muldoon
January 29, 2004

It's a happening scene -- in a very cool space, with iffy drinks.

The guy I was talking to (and believe me, if you're a woman you'll end up talking to a guy, or maybe a couple of guys) said he likes Oslo a lot -- and that one of his other favorite bars is 219. That fits. Both places are new (Oslo opened three months ago) and have similar crowds: Lots of men wearing jackets with no ties, looking important. Men in expensive black shirts. Cashmere. Women who create fashion trends (spiky blond hair, stiletto boots with highwater jeans rolled up). A woman, in exquisite haute couture boots, looked so thin I was afraid her body would break each time someone brushed against her.

Weeknights and early on weekends, the age range of the men is wide -- lots of folks in their 40s, perhaps 50s. As the night wears on, the median age drops to 20s, some 30s, very little else. The women rarely look older than 35. People watch each other, notice the shape and texture of the bodies around them, make decisions about whom to approach.

The space is tres hip, and monochromatically mod in its white-black-whiteness. "White," "stark" and "spare" cover the first room. (Though the entryway is the bright green so popular at Banana Republic these days.) There are white seats (with gray cushions), domed white ceilings, white stools by white marble-topped tables, and two clear plastic bubble chairs in the front window. Sadly, I've never sat in one -- they're perpetually occupied.

Photos by Peter Yang/AA-S Room 3 at Oslo, the hip new club on West Sixth, has a DJ, a dance floor and a sleek crowd.

Room 2 is completely black -- floors, chairs, bar -- and, in fact, is no-man's-land. Separated from the front and back rooms by long braids of metallic beads hanging from the ceiling -- and of course, defined by the shift in colorlessness -- Room 2 is always the least crowded space in the place.

The DJs hold sway in Room 3. Lit from beneath, the dance floor is constructed from a heavy white synthetic material and laid over grates. Patrons dance on backlit grate-shadowed plastic; it's cool. Above the dancers, "moon rocks" three times the size of my head randomly light up and glow dimly beside disco balls.

One recent Saturday night, about 1 a.m., rooms 1 and 3 were body to body. Room 2? Almost empty. Maybe it was the uniformed policeman who hangs out there, doing security on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. Maybe people feel trapped by the obsidian darkness of this neither here nor there space. Then again, Room 1 is the entrance, where patrons can scope each new arrival, and Room 3 contains the dance floor (which is also pretty good for scoping) -- why would anyone hang in Room 2?

But Room 2 is a good place to actually get a drink -- each room has a bar and the lines are shortest in the place where nobody is. Drinks, however, are not Oslo's strong suit. My cosmopolitan was crummy (sickly sweet, lacking vodka) and my friend's Grey Goose and tonic on the rocks tasted largely of quinine and ice. A second round of drinks wasn't much better. It wasn't until we had our third and final round that we were served something that tasted like it couldn't be legally purchased by a 12-year-old. (And, no, our judgment was not impaired by that point; given how weak those first two rounds were, we were sober enough to tell good booze from bad.)

Another night, the drinks were fine, though not spectacular. The happy hour food's good, however. Lamb briouats were terrific, the plentiful calamari was rubbery (though I've had chewier) and the shrimp dumplings had a delectable bite. I meant to try the chocolate fondue with animal crackers (how cute), but didn't get there. These appetizers, by the way, run a very reasonable $3.50-$4.50.

It's not much fun to eat them at happy hour, however, as the place is doornail dead. Fourteen people came in on a Friday night between 5:30 and 6:45; the rest of the world seemed to be across the street, at the full-unto-madness Thistle. A late-night place this definitely is, especially if you don't mind lousy drinks and cool chairs from which you will be picked up by a single someone wearing something sleek.

---

bargirl@covad.net