Gemini on the Wane: Main Street's Bar Twins, Dean's & Notsuoh, Head in Opposing Directions
"Excuse me, but do you hear that too? Is that people having sex? What the hell is that noise?"
A large group of men in suits has just entered a small downtown bar, and they're looking around with confusion, presumably puzzled by the voices drowning out Pimp C's rapping. As eerily similar as the late UGK MC's rhymes are to certain noises made by overzealous romantic partners, most of us know better. It's just the slam poetry going on in Notsuoh, this bar's next-door neighbor.
We are sitting at Dean's Credit Clothing, which has traditionally been seen as a sister bar to Notsuoh. For many years the two bars shared an owner, Jim Pirtle, who installed an interior door between them that rendered the two nearly inseparable, as did his love of quirky, eclectic décor. But now Pirtle is long gone, at least where Dean's is concerned.
Today a row of well-appointed settees (complete with throw pillows) sits in the place of the spooky mannequins and racks of clothing that once lined the walls of Dean's, effectively earmarking it as a vintage store with booze. To be fair, perhaps the new décor was a necessary step in order for it to forge an identity independent of Notsuoh. Even that good-neighbor door between the two is gone, covered with a row of bright-red curtains. Dean's is posh and pretty now, and the makeover has given it a look more suited to a Main Street bar.
The patrons also resemble those at upscale neighbors like The Pastry War. Dress socks flood the floor where skinny jeans and high-waisted shorts used to frolic, but as strange as it feels, this new, lawyer-heavy crowd fits the new Dean's. As folks trickle into the warm bar, each one shoots the same confused look as the one before. It appears that slam poetry at Notsuoh's simply cannot be drowned out, no matter how much the volume increases on the UGK playlist.
We try explaining the noises with a simple gesture toward the red curtain, but it seems only to further confuse people. The crowd in Dean's seems to be clueless about slam poetry, so we decide perhaps it's easier to allow them to believe that someone in the bar next door leads a very active sex life.