Edison, Downtown

Edison Downtown
108 W. 2nd Street
Los Angeles, CA 90012
http://www.edisondowntown.com/

Telephone: 213.613.0000

Wednesday - Friday:
5:00 pm - 2:00 am
Saturday:
8:00 pm - 2:00 am


I'm not going to post a picture of this place, because it's impossible to really do it justice. The look is very industrial-chic, a combination of roaring 20's, art deco, and steamboat interior. Sound weird? That's because it kind of is! (Do check out the website- it sort of gives a good idea of what the place is like.)

But it's lovely, too. The Edison is a nice place- I think the word I would employ is "grownup." Everything's customized, from chairs and tables (modified trunks!) to lights and sinks.

I went on Saturday for a birthday party and had a grand ol' time. Except for the whole absinthe thing, but that was my fault. I insisted on trying a drink with absinthe in it (I tried the Absinthe '75) even though the waitress explicitly asked me if I liked black licorice, because if I didn't, I wouldn't like absinthe. I naively assumed that the licorice taste wouldn't be TOO strong (stupid, stupid, stupid!) and ordered the drink. Yeah, never again.

I had another drink, the Mistress Nouveaux, which I loved. I'm sticking with that one from now on. (Pomegranate martini with a champagne floater- delicious and pink and served in an old-school champagne glass, none of that flute nonsense!)

I had a sip of someone else's Southside Fizz, which was really good. Surprising, because I don't like gin. Yes, I said it- gin sucks. It tastes like vodka gone horribly wrong to me, as if someone didn't make the vodka properly. But the Southside Fizz was great- maybe the citrus really just cut that gin flavor?

A wonderful thing about the Edison is that there is a dress code. Yes, men, you must wear proper attire! Women can get away with a lot, but it cracks me up to see men get turned away at the door (after waiting in line!) because they're not wearing appropriate clothing. I'm mean, but it's funny!

(Very Long Aside: There is a "friend" of mine, who will remain unnamed, who is causing me all kinds of drama. I told one of my other friends this fact: the drama-filled friend is my only frenemy. Seriously, I have no other girlfriends that I would consider frenemies but this one. So the frenemy isn't speaking to me, but won't do the courtesy of telling me WHY SHE ISN'T SPEAKING TO ME. How the flippin' heck do you expect ANY sort of resolution if you won't TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG?! I cannot abide with completely illogical people, it drives me bonkers.

So Frenemy only responds to direct text messaged questions with terse, one-word replies. Does not reply to e-mail. Will not pick up when I call. I know that Frenemy will be at the Edison, and as the week progresses, I am hoping that she will come to her senses (silly me for imagining the best) and actually tell me what is going on.

As I continue trying to resolve a situation that clearly needs more drama (read with a giant amount of sarcasm), I am getting angrier and angrier. Ask anyone in my family: the one sure-fire way of pissing me off is to continue being mad at me. If I, the prickly, passive-aggressive porcupine incapable of sharing my feelings, am reaching out to you REPEATEDLY, you better be absolutely sure that you either want my wrath or are willing to TALK TO ME ALREADY. I think it's safe to say that this woman went with wrath, probably thinking to herself, "Jeanny's wrath. How bad could it be?"

Frenemy and I have a mutual friend at the shindig on Saturday. She, being a kind and considerate person that understands my frustration, warns me when Frenemy is just about to get to the Edison. I resign myself to having to see THAT FACE and am glad that I am sitting at the far end of the table, knowing that it will be very telling when Frenemy gets there to see where she chooses to sit.

Frenemy shows up (having waited in line, alone, for a good half-hour, which I am going to go ahead and call KARMA) and, without sparing me so much as a glance, sits at the opposite end of the table, with as many people between us as possible.

At this point, I am LIVID (also, I have sampled champagne, vodka, gin, and absinthe). I may not get truly angry very often, but when I do, I am tenaciously, determinedly, hellishly mad. I hate cutting people out of my life, as I don't have that many friends that I would consider 'close,' but I'm at that point. I'm done. She had SEVERAL chances and chose to ignore, belittle, and scorn me at every opportunity.

I leave shortly after she gets there because I'm having a hard time not jumping on the table to punch her in the nose.

Whew. I feel better now.

That cow. (I am proud of myself for giving her the moniker 'Frenemy' rather than 'Stupid Heifer.' I've shown restraint; this must be what maturity feels like.)

In all seriousness, though. If you're mad at someone and they keep trying to contact you, why wouldn't you at least tell them why you're mad?? I don't get that part at all. AT ALL. Tell me what's wrong and THEN be mad. Don't be a self-righteous prig that's full of indignation and huffiness. Just DON'T DO IT. GEEZ.

Aside's over, back to the good part of the evening!)

I tried a bit of someone's grilled cheese sandwich, which I found incongruous but delicious. I love cheese, so there wasn't much of a chance that I would have disliked something with cheese and butter (and negligible bread).

The people that work at the Edison were all dressed in 20's style (sort of), flapper dresses and suits and whatnot- even the absinthe fairy. There's a girl with green sparkly wings that pushes an absinthe cart around. Literally a nice cart with what looks like an apothecary box on it that has old-fashioned glass vials and bottles full of a variety of different absinthes. Having had my fill of black licorice for the evening, I didn't try any- I appreciated the green fairy concept, though.

If ever I'm downtown, which I never am, Edison would definitely be the place that I go to for dinner and/or drinks. Provided that I meet the dress code, of course. And also provided that there are no frenemies or heifers or mad cows within my visual range.