Articles like this, or the recent ones in the Washington Post & Wall St Journal (about the Ralphs) are good cuz they're helping get the word out there.
Machine Age
WHICH WAY TO THE BOILER ROOM? Patrons at the Edison on a recent Saturday. The bar was once a pow-
er plant. Stephanie Diani for The New York Times
By SAMANTHA B. BONAR
Published: October 14, 2007
LOS ANGELES
THERE is the Tramp and then there are tramps. You likely won’t find either at the Edison lounge, although you might expect to run into the former. Descending three steep flights to enter the club, which in a previous life was the first private power plant in downtown Los Angeles, is like stepping into a factory scene from the 1936 Charlie Chaplin film “Modern Times.”
Mechanical artifacts are scattered about the cavernous space, and classic silent films are projected onto three-story-high brick and concrete walls, accompanied by a mix of jazz tunes, many with a techno twist.
Men mill about in fedoras, black shirts and white suspenders. Women generally dress in typical Los Angeles high hootchy, but the dresses aren’t quite as down to there or up to here. Feather boas are not unheard of.
Artsy local loft dwellers and downtown businessmen make up much of the crowd, but since the Edison opened less than a year ago, word has been spreading. It has become the place to be after trolling art exhibits on Thursday nights, when local galleries stay open late. Weekends are busiest, and by 10 p.m. on a recent Saturday, the line to get in filled the alley and coursed down Second Street.
“Oh, you’re from Pasadena, too!” a tall blonde in a short shimmery dress chirped to a man dressed all in black.
The interior is dotted with Deco touches like vases of peacock feathers. The Eddies, 1920s-style cabaret dancers, perform three times a night, the white fringe of their dresses whipping around like streaks of electricity in the darkened room.
Waiting in the bathroom line near a marble-top vanity that held Burberry cologne, packets of Aleve and LifeStyles condoms, Cynthia Torres and her friend Patty Garcia raved about the club’s modern speak-easy look. Ms. Torres, 25, discovered it less than a month ago and has been there three times. “I love that I could chill in different spots like the lab, the boiler room and the generator lounge, all in one night,” she said.
Oxblood velvet curtains hide various nooks where patrons can become better acquainted. Behind Curtain No. 1: Clubgoers playing pool at a vintage red-felt table. Behind Curtain No. 2: A dame lolls on a gent’s lap in a caramel leather armchair.
In a corner, a group of impeccably made-up middle-age Japanese women in silk kimonos sat stiffly and silently. They had wandered over from nearby Little Toyko, scouting a space for a friend to sing traditional Japanese songs, explained a woman with a white-powdered face who was carrying a card that read “Mme. Fumi Akutagawa, kimono consultant and instructor.”
After looking at the dancing Eddies, who had changed into scanty black bras and panties for their second show, Mme. Akutagawa concluded, “Too crowded, too many steps, maybe not so good.” Perhaps she added mentally: “Those girls could use some kimonos.”
The Edison
108 West 2nd Street, No. 101
Los Angeles
(213) 613-0000
GETTING IN No list and no cover. Thursday night has the most eclectic crowd.
DRESS CODE Pinstripes for men, simple cocktail dresses for women, though blondes in leggings and blousy tops make their requisite appearance.
SIGHTINGS Sting, Alicia Silverstone, Eva Longoria.
D.J. PICKS Ray Barretto’s “Mercy, Mercy Baby” and Grant Green’s “Sookie, Sookie.”
SIGNATURE DRINK Edison Pear (organic lavender-infused bourbon, pear cognac, fresh pear nectar), $13.