Sugar is Sweet
I didn’t trust the comments about Sugar in my post the weekend they opened—they seemed like they were written by, oh, some of those sour-ass bitches who are always venting and hating on everything. So I asked a local fag I trust—Dominic Holden—what he thought of Sugar.
Sugar: One Hump or Two?
Since I can remember, the space next to the Comet Tavern has spent more time vacant than occupied. In its most recent incarnation, a KUBE banner hung across the building’s black facade and a few surly bouncers idled in the doorway. On Saturday nights shrieking girls would pour out of limos and stumble inside. It didn’t last.
Like most other Capitol Hill queers, I skeptically hoped the box’s reincarnation would be more… fitting. It is. Don’t let the glaring white paintjob on Pike St. near Broadway fool you. This is not Capitol Hill’s newest abortion clinic. The marquee promises weekend House music and a Tea Dance. The name is Sugar.
A week after Sugar opened to—ahem—long lines, I took the plunge. The unforgivable exterior is balanced by smooth white interiors, high ceilings and giant mirrors. But your attention is quickly captured by eye candy that’s even sweeter. Sugar’s lighting is fucking awesome. If the Starship Enterprise could smash Manray and Neighbours into a cube on the Holodeck, this is what it would look like. Strobes of color pulse from the rafters. Video canisters spin and whirl on all sides. And a DJ presides behind a wall of brilliant, high-intensity LEDs.
What the lights illuminate are even better. The. Boys. Are. Hot. Not just the barely-clad dancers—it’s an all-around good-lookin’ crowd. Girls, too.
A few tasty drinks later and I was ready to dance. The music was thumping—music which, Glory be, was not a string of corny radio hits—when a cute boy persuaded me to step on the dance floor. The sound was great. The floor was made of wood, which any true dance-oholic knows is prime, and I danced my ass off.
Time flew by, friends were made, numbers got exchanged and I was looking at two enticing companions. I hoped the night would get even better from there. It did.—DOMINIC HOLDEN
Why do the Gays listen to such bad music? Their bars might be more tolerable if they didn't sound like SNL skits inside