Devilish Angel
Truth be told, even those who make their living by knowing the scene hadn't heard about The Saint.
We asked around, sent some texts and Googled away. Nada. After being forwarded an e-mail about the bar's Wednesday night opening, we had trouble recruiting friends to join the party given our lack of details.
"Whose bar is it?" asked one potential wing gal. No idea. "What used to be there?" Uh, another bar that looked the same? No sale. Finally, we were able to gather a crew and ventured into the great nightlife unknown, hoping for a good time, a relaxing cocktail and a new place to hang.
And what we found filled our fantasy. We discovered a cool, intimate lounge with a great mix of moveable oldies (Ray Charles, Redbone and Neil Diamond) and a solid, polished crowd.
Were we blown away? Nope. Will we go back? Guaranteed. And to think, we had no idea what we'd find when we got there.
We'll just call it our very own Chanukah miracle.
The buzz: The small, narrow space on a slightly random stretch of Vine Street above Santa Monica Boulevard used to be Vine Bar, a dingy, disgusting rocker hole where hardcore hipsters used to frolic. But former Vine Bar owner Johnny Maloney, along with partner Logan Fenton, decided to turn the bar into a more upscale affair that, according to Fenton, "feels like a New York bar. I hate L.A. bars."
The scene: Fans of Vine Bar's gritty past might be disappointed in Saint's new, glossier digs. Bartenders are dressed in crisp, white dress shirts and dapper suspenders, facial hair on patrons is at a minimum and, well, the bathrooms are clean. Score. But ladies will be pleased that this scene is a total sausage fest, with multiple men (who are very single and ready to mingle) for each woman. Jolliest was a group of rayon-clad cougars who wasted no time calling shot gun on the cute, clean cut dudes.
The sightings: We spotted Shanna Moakler palling around with Dancing With the Stars' Derek Hough (Wikipedia says it rhymes with "rough"), one-time reality star (and Tila Tequila's reported former lover) Courtenay Semel hanging out with one of the lady personal trainer's from Bravo's Workout and ex-Mr. Avril Lavigne himself, Sum 41 frontman Deryck Whibley standing with a buddy near the bar.
LET THERE BE LIGHT: The bevel-mirrored bar gives off an aura of heavenly light at The Saint.
The visuals: Though sexy and slick, Saint's surroundings are hardly a religious experience. Gone are any nods to the dirty dive bar that was, instead replaced by glowing religious candles, a beautiful beveled glass bar and two massive circular, wrought iron and Edison bulb chandeliers meant to evoke visions of a halo. But beyond the tribal tapestries in the front room, the decor gets a bit confused. Further back in a tiny, pitch-black cavern that houses the DJ booth you'll find velvet tables and lacquered walls. Continue on to find a red-lit staircase that feels like something you'd find at Geisha House. And upstairs in the low-ceilinged VIP area, crystal wall sconces feel too glam to fit in with the more rustic setting downstairs, which one reveler described as being similar to Manhattan's Gramercy Park Hotel.
The dress code: Standardly stylish, sophisticated garb. Guys are wearing glasses because they actually improve vision, not look irreverent. Think nice jeans, solid button down shirts, black leather jackets and good shoes--Converse, Dunks and a bevy of nice suede loafers that were more likely from Tod's than Aldo. Nothing too trendy or, thankfully, too "Hollywood" to be found. Though one winner did decide to don a white V-neck T-shirt cut so low, his cleavage was more prominent than our own. Not cool. The girls here are all about black and we spotted a lot of simple dresses with boots and ankle booties, which happen to be the same uniform worn by the waitresses. Stand-outs included gold tights, vintage long-strap Gucci bags and Raquel Allegra tops paired with casual, flowy winter-wear and skinny jeans.
The hot seat: A tiny upstairs enclave comes complete with glass windows affording a birds eye view to the action down below (Young Hollywood take note: the window is crystal clear on both sides). A velvet rope does sit at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the private pad, but it happened to be open the night we visited and the staff was fine with us chillin' on the plush, velvet couches--even though we weren't springing for bottle service.
The drink: Saint is still readying their signature cocktail list. But we were pleased with standard drinks that didn't break the bank ($9 for a vodka soda). As far as luxury goes, a bottle of Jack Daniels can be had for $275 with Dom setting you back $450.
The door: With uber-promoters Pantera Sarah and Grace Fernandez ruling the Wednesday night roost, we expected a full-blown door situation complete with groveling and a bit of humiliation. But the entrance was surprisingly easy breezy. A velvet rope is planted out front for effect, but there was no line to be found--only a doorman who let our group through after a swift once-over and a nod.