Fade in: nighttime. Hollywood.
You go down grimy outdoor stairs to a dark basement door. You’re facing a call box with a bunch of buttons next to random strangers’ names.
Choose wisely. Only one of them leads to frozen bacon Manhattans...
Descend into Dirty Laundry, a subterranean lair of dancing and curious cocktails from the No Vacancy and La Descarga guys, opening tomorrow under the streets of Hollywood.
This used to be an actual speakeasy where Rudolph Valentino and Mae West hung out, being all audacious and retro—it’s a low-slung, darkly lit cave with arched brick ceilings and tile walls, and at first you’ll feel like you got cast in the biopic. (Keep an eye on their social media before you go—it’ll tell you which name on the call box to press for entrance.)
Soon, though, things dissolve into a dystopian vision of present-tense Hollywood. (You love a good dystopia.) All around you are flickering Edison bulbs, creaky cabinets and... alligator skulls. And jars full of spiders. And a packed dance floor with cranked-up rock and hip-hop. And pretty people creating beautiful regrets.
And to follow your frozen bacon Manhattans: cactus-pear mint juleps with Pop Rocks or punch bowls full of sage-infused ice bricks.
And alcohol.
You go down grimy outdoor stairs to a dark basement door. You’re facing a call box with a bunch of buttons next to random strangers’ names.
Choose wisely. Only one of them leads to frozen bacon Manhattans...
Descend into Dirty Laundry, a subterranean lair of dancing and curious cocktails from the No Vacancy and La Descarga guys, opening tomorrow under the streets of Hollywood.
This used to be an actual speakeasy where Rudolph Valentino and Mae West hung out, being all audacious and retro—it’s a low-slung, darkly lit cave with arched brick ceilings and tile walls, and at first you’ll feel like you got cast in the biopic. (Keep an eye on their social media before you go—it’ll tell you which name on the call box to press for entrance.)
Soon, though, things dissolve into a dystopian vision of present-tense Hollywood. (You love a good dystopia.) All around you are flickering Edison bulbs, creaky cabinets and... alligator skulls. And jars full of spiders. And a packed dance floor with cranked-up rock and hip-hop. And pretty people creating beautiful regrets.
And to follow your frozen bacon Manhattans: cactus-pear mint juleps with Pop Rocks or punch bowls full of sage-infused ice bricks.
And alcohol.
