Get your spin cycle and your groove on.
In a city like Miami, smaller places barely make a blip on the club radar. But when our South Florida Nightstalkers needed a break to wash their disco pants and club hopper tops we sent them to Laundry Bar. Now part of a discotheque-slash-laundromat trend that has slowly blossomed across the country, Laundry Bar was Miamiís original such establishment, and continues to operate under new ownership since the beginning of the year. And itís our only Laundromat friend on MySpace.
The gay-friendly, 2,500-square-foot space welcomes all who want to tumble dry their socks and wet their tongues. You can start suds-ing your clothes at 7a.m., but the party gets started at around noon. Thatís when the DJ arrives, be it a local act or international artist, or sometimes the occasional band. Video screens, video games, and a pool provide additional entertainment, but you can always make it an afternoon of watching panties dance around in the gentle cycle.
We sent this monthís NightStalkers on a mission to find out whether Laundry Bar was one of SoBeís best kept club secrets or a total washout.
The only bottle service Laundry Bar had to offer involved jugs of Tide and Clorox. It was an interesting concept. Tucked away off the main run of South Beachís Lincoln Road, this obscure location made it harder to find but easier to enjoy, appealing to a less guido/macho, more alternative crowd.
We waltzed in and made our way up the winding staircase to the DJ booth. En route, we passed the full-sized, fully stocked bar that stretched across the front right section where a cosmopolitan cast of characters were keeping the bar stools warm like it was their job. From trannies to pimps, thugs to divas, it was clear that at Laundry Bar people took the concept of identity painstakingly serious.
In the booth, DJ Methodus rocked the place with his drum and bass beats. I made my way to the ladiesí room where I passed through a museum of unmatched socks in the back area of the bar. Wife beaters were the uniform of choice here, as clearly everyone was soaking their Sunday Best. Small crowds of people lounged on the washers and dryers in use, taking in the fusion of the bass and the machines. Really now, was this a drum and bass or a darks and delicates party? It was hard to tell.
donít remember the precise time I arrived at the bar, due to a little confusion on the location (thanks mangos), but once there I felt uplifted by the soulful drum and bass being spun by my good friend Methodus. After walking in I realized Laundry Bar wasnít just a clever name for the place, but that you could actually do your laundry there. A place like this could come in handy on those lonely Sunday nights when you need human contact and to get your whites back to white for the daily grind.
Drinks were strong, causing a slight memory lapse in exact cost, but I donít remember prices being absurd Ė happy hour drinks are two for one. The music was crisp through the sound system; you can get a good feel for it on DnB nights since the bass is always skin deep in most of the tracks.
As with any bar located in South Beach, youíre going to get a plethora of people coming through the place: keep an eye out for those hot trannies, if youíre into that sort of thing of course. The smell of Ottoís jacket Ė aka Mary Jane, Buddha, Wacky Tobaccy, etc. Ė made me feel welcome, immediately giving the bar an anything-goes-type atmosphere. The one pool table in back and abundance of bar tables and stools definitely gave it more of a bar feeling but thereís also a little room to cut a rug if the mood strikes you. The lighting made for a friendly ambiance, definitely bright enough to tell she-male from female, but not to blind your eyes.
All in all, Iíd definitely head back there to watch my friends spin and chill out. Iíd probably stay only to pre-game though and then head somewhere else, unless of course I spilled something on my clothes early in the night and needed to throw it in the wash.