Amber
Seattle proper (excluding those Eastside suburbs) is one of the least pretentious cities around. Amber is the exception that proves the rule. Hints of the patrons’ fleece-wearing, sock-and-sandal day lives are erased under the soft lighting scheme and their (slightly more) meticulous dress. Going to Amber on the weekends involves a thirty minute wait on the curb just to get in, outlandish by the city’s casual standards. Inside, the amber glow illuminates the heavenly cocktails that make this place live up to its swanky reputation. Their blueberry mojitos ($12) make a girl swoon. Even with a V.I.P. section upstairs, reputed to be the hangout of Mariners players, the vibe at Amber lacks the hierarchal bitchiness of dressed-up girls vying for rich men that pervades a certain set of high-end bars. Instead, when you wait for the bathroom after a few of those expertly mixed cocktails, you’ll encounter friendly chatter and a laid-back vibe. In Seattle, even pretentious cocktail bars can’t be pretentious. We’re just too nice.
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