Capitol Hill is lemony with cosmopolitan demand; tart, authoritative, knowledgeable, perceptive. Alternatively suave. It exhales a kind of stained urbanity. The streets protrude a nonchalant middle finger to each tourist, because these are where the artists live, man.
Scrumptiously acquainted with the Emerald City, Cap Hill, as us locals call it, exudes an edgy feel that provides the quaintness in my step, especially through Broadway Street. The regulars accessorize with Value Village Ray-Bans, a grande recyclable cup, and oversized headphones. Each shop, restaurant, and pedestrian is all about cutting edge newness, because this is where ever-blooming music, food, and art exists. Oh, and people honestly don’t care what you think about them. Really.
The neighborhood validates the proposition that yes, Seattle contains more guitar-strumming and flannel scruff balls than LAX. It withholds the neon attitude of the city, and is the source of constancy that keeps us all in-motion; it’s a timeless indispensability. When you’re there, you get a similar feeling like when you hear the ice cream truck for the first time of the summer – a bit weirded out, but you’re so going for it.
The neighborhood is for the nonjudgmental, because this is the brewing spot for ruthless creativity. The spawn of it all, that is always just a tad bit marijuana induced. It’s all very wildly individualized yet collectively cool. For the locals, they run their little shops to pass the time till that evening’s rehearsal. When you go and grab a coffee from one of their cafes, they’ll look at you with oversized glasses, dyed black hair, and rolled up sleeves. He or she will sarcastically grimace, “What can I do for ya, honey?”.
Hopefully you’re at Minervini on Harvard Ave at this point, looking at the handcrafted jewelry and chatting with one of the twins. They’re brothers and both managers of the minute espresso place, but everyone calls both of them Joe. No one has ever been corrected. Anyways, you better be getting their $2 latte and making a bid for a turquoise ring, because both will make you weep in devastation. Let’s face reality: you will never be as darling as they are.
As you go more more North, you’ll lose the grandeur of all the alternative folk, but you’ll reach the gorgeously geometric homes that sit next to each other like dollhouses. If you head more South past Madison street, then you’ll hit the area where I went to high school. The Central District is our own ghetto of the city, so I like heading that direction because it’s rich in culture, sass, and vivacious people. However, if you’re looking to buy a pretty new home, definitely go North.
If you actually live in Capitol Hill, you’re automatically trendy, love underground theatre shows, are snobbishly agile with the metro system, and despise going downtown. That’s where all the corporate people pack their lunches and scoff at drugs and free time. If you don’t live there and you’re a local, they’ll accept you mostly because you’ll end up buying at least a handmade Italian soda. And you’ll dorkily be a bland and simple dresser to them, but they could like you anyway.
As either a male or female attendee of Capitol Hill, the clothes will always be the best part. 80% of the stores are literally one-of-a-kind and awkwardly cramped, but as a creative shopper, you’ll no doubt find yourself some bizarre yet assertive pieces. Fatty corporations like Macy’s or the Gap could never pull off the things you’ll witness. There lies the ostentatious intrigue of Seattle fashion. The last time I went shopping in the area, my friend purchased a sparkly crop top that featured a sequined unicorn head on the bosom. She got it for $10 and rocked it, clad with her tight black skirt, red ankle boots, and a men’s flannel draped around her shoulders. She waved a cigarette in her right hand all night long, making the sparkles flash in and out. It was like the shirt was saying, “Yeah dude, I picked it out myself”.
In terms of food, you have to go to the Oddfellows Cafe, a local hotspot that is responsible for making me completely head over heels for the concept of a B.L.T.A sandwich. I am entirely open about my obsession, and have no shame regarding the matter. It is NOT just a sandwich, okay? The people that work there understand the sad portion of our population that get hungry every two hours. How wholly romantic for my appetite! Naturally, I get the menu updates on Twitter, and then embarrassingly gasp with excitement when they announce the menu’s new additions. I particularly adore the darling tweet banters between Cupcake Royale and the Oddfellows Café, as they give each other complimentary shout outs via “tweeting”. Both are proud Seattle-originals that provide acclaimed treats.
So, can you pronounce the term “Molly Moon’s”? What does the flavor “salted caramel” mean to you? If you can’t answer me, get out. Or, at least go buy a flannel and dirty yourself up a bit, and then we’ll talk.
Ladies and gents, welcome to Capitol Hill.
