Bars/Clubs: Dolce (alternate title – Ding Dong the Witch is Dead)

I squealed with glee when I recently learned that Dolce mercifully closed its doors to the public. In honor of this joyous occasion, I’m resurrecting my admittedly nasty (but totally deserved) review from 2006. Here you go, boys and girls...

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Dolce is kind of like that friend we all have. You know, the one who thinks he’s “in” because he’s donning what he deems to be the latest-and-greatest in fashion, but who just ends up coming off as trying far too desperately to be cool.

I was invited to Dolce for the 25th birthday of a friend of a friend. From the moment I arrived at the velvet-roped front entrance, I knew I was going to have an awful experience. (Actually, I should have known I was going to have an awful experience when I learned it was located on Broadway in North Beach.)

Why?

First and foremost, the crowd. I moved away from Los Angeles to get away from the type of people who frequent Dolce. It was a sea of Paris Hilton clones and their clueless, sunglasses-at-night-wearin’ boyfriends. Everywhere I turned, I was assaulted by bad cologne, bleached hair, and breast implants.

Second, the bitchy bartenders. I walked up to the bar and ordered an 1800 margarita from one of several female bartenders. She tried to act sexy, oblivious to the fact that I'm gay and was immune to her dubious “charms,” and made a ridiculous comment about 1800 not being very good tequila. I love tequila, and I’m well aware that there are many, many tequilas much better than Cuervo 1800, but anyone who knows anything about fine spirits knows that you don’t waste the best alcohol on a mixed drink. Being a bartender, she should have known this. She was probably just trying to up-sell me, but she ended up coming off as stupid and inexperienced.

Third, the awful music. All cheese, all trance, all night long.

If you’re thinking of going to Dolce, don’t. And if it sounds like the kind of place you would like, move to L.A. It’ll leave more room in San Francisco for those of us with good taste.

P.S. Someone needs to inform Dolce's interior designer (if they have one) that the concept of using a bed as seating at a nightclub has been done to death, for the past 10 years. At least back then it was novel; now it’s just cliche.

No stars

Dolce
I won't bother with the address

(Originally written 08/31/2006)