Two empty-nesters sat at the far end of the bar enjoying Manhattans, a power couple near the beer taps was matching martini for martini, and a young couple whose deep gazes indicated that at least some significant time had been spent apart, rounded out the crowd one recently.

It had all the earmarks of date night, what therapists the world over recommend for married couples, especially ones with children. A little adult time together to reconnect emotionally, and perhaps, physically.

As the hours for baby sitters grew short, the power couple exited, followed by the Manhattan drinkers. Gradually, the couples were replaced — first by two friends enjoying a drink after a movie, later by a late-working office employee and then by a solitary man. When the young couple finally departed, pushing their baby-sitting budget and perhaps the sitter's teenage patience to the limit, I was ready to rule Date Night over.

As the young lovers made their way out, a slightly older couple were on the way in. The arriving gentlemen hung his conservative gray sport coat on a hook before turning to take his lady's knee-length long black coat.

I glanced at them briefly while pouring a beer for the loner. Once her coat was off, however, the loner and I quickly turned our gaze in her direction.

She was wearing an outfit out of Victoria's Secret, page two, if you know what I mean. While not wholly unusual for a weekend night, on a nearly empty weekday night her outfit

Advertisement
certainly attracted attention — and not just mine and the loner's.

She wore, if it can be called “wearing,” a virtually see-through black lace ballerina-style skirt, topped off by a leatherlike bustier that pushed and squeezed her upper womanly parts to their most prominent points. The entire ensemble was bottomed off by higher than necessary silver-tipped black pumps. Subtle was clearly not in her wardrobe vocabulary.

The loner starred unabashedly slack-jawed, as did the two cinema lovers and the late-working office worker.

Ms. Ballerina slowly strutted by all of them, clearly displaying the wide black hems of her stockings, which stopped 2 inches short of the hem of her “skirt.” She then selected the two most visible seats left at the nearly empty bar.

Sitting at one barstool she crossed her legs with great flourish. Her conservatively dressed squire leaned in close and whispered something in her ear. After which she switched seats, faced the office worker and uncrossed her legs.

He snapped his neck as he likely got an eyeful, which was clearly deliberate as her stilettos were locked in the bottom rung of the barstool, easily raising her knees well above her waist.

“Champagne for the lady,” her escort said to me while gesturing at her, presumably in case I thought “lady” wouldn't apply. She pushed her barstool back and swiveled her knees toward me while moving her heels to the top rung of the barstool. “Releve,” the ballet dancers call it, which means “raised,” which is what she did with her knees. I looked away quickly but not before I discovered two things, unintentionally and unwillingly: her purchases at Victoria's Secret omitted one very important piece of clothing, and she might be Brazilian.

“I'll have a margarita,” said the ballerina's escort.

I headed to the other cocktail station to prepare it, saving myself any more unwanted viewings. Seeing my retreat elicited another ear whispering, which in turn, caused the ballerina to turn toward the loner.

For nearly 15 minutes it continued, display and response. Not knowing the etiquette in such a situation (where is Miss Manners when you need her?) and realizing that aside from occasional flashes their behavior was impeccably polite, I decided no real harm was being done and went about my business.

The displays were eventually cut short by a phone call on the ballerina's cell phone.

“It's the baby-sitter,” she said to her beau.

Two minutes later, their drinks were finished, their coats were retrieved and they were gone, leaving the five of us wondering, “What the hell was that all about?”

Which led me to a few thoughts:

— Ballerina outfits are better suited to the barre, that long wooden training pole attached to a wall, rather than at a bar that serves drinks.

— Date night and reconnecting mean different things to different people.

— Tuesdays might be busier or slower, soon, once word of this gets around.

— Wanting to see something is often more enjoyable than having to.

Jeff Burkhart is an award-winning bartender at a Marin bar/restaurant and an author. His columns appear weekly in Here. Contact him at jeffb@thebarflyonline.com.