At Last, The Gibson

It may just be that all liberal arts majors who come to DC have a soft spot for The Great Gatsby.

Where are my nights filled with dancing and sophistication? they ask, as they dolefully shuffle along the halls in their internships.  Where the beautiful yearning for something unattainable?  Where the delicate cocktails served next to a champagne fountain on a grassy lawn?

OK, The Gibson may not turn you into Daisy or Gatsby per se, but it’s as close as you’re likely to come.  At least until next years Tweed Ride rolls around.

But really, folks, how is this place able to exist without bursting at the seams?  It’s so perfect, it’s a wonder they can keep the overcrowding to a perfect nothingness.  At The Gibson, everyone sits.  Compared to Saint Ex or a dance party at the Black Cat just down 14th Street, this is reinventing the scene.

Since I have only gone on slow nights, this hasn’t been cause for rancor; on a Saturday night, waiting in line in front of the liquor store next door might not be conducive to thoughts of tranquility.

But once inside, the dark wood and soft lighting soothe the senses.  The drink list is a sight to behold, handed over by a waitress with an air of bar bookishness.  Broken up into Cocktails, Fizzes and Sours and with names like Edie, Get Off the Tracks and Criminal Nickel, the drinks are jaw-dropping in their complexity and bespoke-ness.  All our bitters and juices are made on site, the waitress informs us.  No doubt.

Expect to pay for the privilege of your seat, however.  Drinks run from $12-$18, with more expensive options off the menu.  But for the experience, it’s worth it.

Find the door to the Gibson at 14th and U, directly to the left of Marvin.  It’s not flashy on the outside, but it’s there, waiting for you.

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