When my friends first mentioned going for drinks at Violet Hour Friday night, I was intrigued. The name was poetic. It reminded me of midnight romances and star crossed lovers staring into an endless expanse of violet, velvet night sky. And when I heard it was a speakeasy, Violet Hour not only became poetic, romantic but also mysterious, exclusive. I was curious, to put it mildly.
As you, dear readers, might have already reasoned, my expectations were high and the unfortunate reality was so so disappointingly low.
We arrived at a late hour and were greeted with the expected long line. We dutifully placed ourselves at the end to begin the wait. Common to many lines of popular late night venues, we observed the predicted growth of groups that started at two and miraculously expanded to twenty in front of us. We saw the groups of tall young beautiful blonde women waiting near the entrance being ushered as they were, per the doorman, on The List.
All of this was predicted and expected. Yet, at some point, the wait started to approach ridiculous. Apparently, The List included at least 50 people who had precedence over the 10 people who were ahead of us. And by the time we reached the entrance, we learned that The List was actually The Money List. Obviously, most clubs operate in a similar fashion. But, Violet Hour had the reputation of, "if you want to get in, you wait in line."
And to top it off, the doorman had the nerve to state with a benevolent smile and a generous wave of his hands when the line was dwindling to a few stragglers, "Alright everyone, no more list for the rest of the night!" Bastard.
Anyway, we finally entered the establishment and I was moderately impressed. The mood was dark with three rooms sectioned off by floor to wall curtains. We were taken to the back where groups of people sat in enormous blue high backed chairs around small tables with candlelight as our only illumination. We proceeded to order and the drinks were delicious, albeit pricey.
I began to feel better about Violet Hour. It began to live up to my imaginations after all.
But then, when we proceeded to pay and divied up the bill between our credit cards and cash, the waitress stated that she could only divide the bill up evenly amongst the credit cards. This was a first. I have never been told that I could not put a specific charge on my card and had to divide up the bill at the discretion of the establishment. We asked her again to confirm the ridiculousness of her request and per my friends, as I had at this point began to feel the effects of my delicious drink, she rolled her eyes and stated that her statements were indeed true. The credit card incident coupled with Violet Hour hurriedly and verbally pushing us out of the establishment with full light illumination encouragement a full 20 minutes before closing time obviously equaled a poor closing experience.
Violet Hour had some potential. Although, I'm not really sure what all the excitement really is. The decor, in retrospect, is mediocre. Tall chairs, tall curtains, candlelight would sum up the entire atmosphere. The wait, was ridiculous. And the service, was poor.
Instead of poetic, romantic, mysterious, exclusive. Think, dear readers, of overrated, mediocre, ridiculous, poor service with excellent, pricey drinks when considering a trip to Violet Hour.
