Bar Pink is located in the heart of North Park at 30th and University, elbow to elbow with trendy boutiques and eateries and one block west of the Ray Street art studio-galleries. Opened in 2007 as the Bar Pink Elephant – owners have since dropped the pachyderm from the name – the club was in the first wave of new businesses to revitalize this struggling district. Parking is available within a block or two.
Flannel and black-clad locals loiter in front of the bar, smoking cigarettes and talking about music, ex-girlfriends, and sushi. Inside, the dance floor is packed with shabby but calculated hipsters in scarves and considered, if not considerable facial hair, hip-hop kids wearing Padres caps, and the occasional P.B. frat boy who mistakenly wanders over from upscale sports joint True North.
It’s too loud to talk over the opening band Black Hondo, so the crowd flails about drinking $2 cans of Tecate and mixed drinks with names like Flirtini, Pink Princess, and Mangorita. Glittery pink bubbles cover the walls and dangle over a wide, well-stocked (cash-only) bar. A nimble bartender named Barbara distributes stiff cocktails and cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Subdued red lights illuminate booths where dudes in beards and tattoos drink pints from Pink’s sensible selection of imports, domestics, and microbrews.
Two pool tables sit adjacent run-down bathrooms with broken stall-locks and large holes, which appear to have been punched through the white walls. Between bands, the DJ spins Sonic Youth, disco, funk, punk, and Prince while an amiable waitress circulates among chatty girls in moccasins and anime haircuts. Some step outside to smoke. Others slip off for a game of pinball, Pac-man, or Streetfighter II. In time, San Fran’s Dead Meat takes the stage and the only audible conversation is a drink order shouted over the psychedelic fuzz.
Bar Pink is located in the heart of North Park at 30th and University, elbow to elbow with trendy boutiques and eateries and one block west of the Ray Street art studio-galleries. Opened in 2007 as the Bar Pink Elephant – owners have since dropped the pachyderm from the name – the club was in the first wave of new businesses to revitalize this struggling district. Parking is available within a block or two.
Flannel and black-clad locals loiter in front of the bar, smoking cigarettes and talking about music, ex-girlfriends, and sushi. Inside, the dance floor is packed with shabby but calculated hipsters in scarves and considered, if not considerable facial hair, hip-hop kids wearing Padres caps, and the occasional P.B. frat boy who mistakenly wanders over from upscale sports joint True North.
It’s too loud to talk over the opening band Black Hondo, so the crowd flails about drinking $2 cans of Tecate and mixed drinks with names like Flirtini, Pink Princess, and Mangorita. Glittery pink bubbles cover the walls and dangle over a wide, well-stocked (cash-only) bar. A nimble bartender named Barbara distributes stiff cocktails and cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Subdued red lights illuminate booths where dudes in beards and tattoos drink pints from Pink’s sensible selection of imports, domestics, and microbrews.
Two pool tables sit adjacent run-down bathrooms with broken stall-locks and large holes, which appear to have been punched through the white walls. Between bands, the DJ spins Sonic Youth, disco, funk, punk, and Prince while an amiable waitress circulates among chatty girls in moccasins and anime haircuts. Some step outside to smoke. Others slip off for a game of pinball, Pac-man, or Streetfighter II. In time, San Fran’s Dead Meat takes the stage and the only audible conversation is a drink order shouted over the psychedelic fuzz.