in line for the women's bathroom

where you’ll get complimented on your outfit and watch someone puke their guts out and solve the mysteries of the universe all at once <3

photo booth strip from cha cha in capitol hill

Friday night I’m at a bar in West Seattle, in line for the bathroom, when a girl stumbles out of a stall, looks at me dead in the eye and goes, “oh, you’re gorgeous” with the slurred speech of someone who’s had a lot to drink. I laugh and tell her she is too, and I like her top, to which she tells me immediately where she got it and that it’s on sale and “oh my god, you have to get it.” A few minutes later— the line is long because three girls are crammed in a stall singing the Hamilton soundtrack in its entirety— we know each other’s star signs (December capricorns) and favorite drinks and are kissing each other on the cheek and reminding the other to get home safe tonight. This is what I love about women’s bathrooms. Everyone inside is nameless and won’t remember each other on the outside but for a few minutes we are all best friends. We are all sharing this moment. It’s ours to do what we want with— to make each other feel beautiful, to steady ourselves, adjust our outfits, shed a few tears. You can count on a passing compliment or insider information about the best drink at the bar or how to get your lipstick to stay in place. It is really only in line for the bathroom or fixing my hair in the mirror that I feel the urge to say the word sisterhood.

I was 16 the first time I got invited along to the bathroom with a group of girls I didn’t know that well. I felt giddy at the invitation because being pulled along down the dark hallway, hand in hand with a girl I’d just met, I was part of the group. I belonged. A feeling that was more foreign to me at the time than it is now. My understanding of a bathroom trip was limited at that point— I blushed when they had no shame in peeing in front of me— but I grasped that it was an important ritual. Even now, when I get up to go pee, I can count on any of the women I’m with to say “you want me to go with you?” It’s companionship, a safety measure, and an offer of friendship all in one.

The events that happen in those bathrooms run the gamut from holding someone’s hair back while they puke or offering a tissue when they cry or fixing each others’ makeup or revealing top secret information or making sure someone has a way to get home safely. It is sisterhood. There is an unspoken agreement that the bathroom is a safe haven and a gathering place. I have male friends that often talk about the women’s bathroom like it’s a mysterious parallel universe that they aren’t invited to and hardly understand. They’re not wrong. I’ve never heard a mean word spoken between women in the bathroom, especially at a bar or club. Compliments are exchanged with ease and I know without a doubt that if I turn to a girl in line and asked her to check if I was bleeding through my pants— she would in an instant. Like I said: sisterhood. We don’t shy away from each other in the bathroom.

This is not to say that this kinship extends beyond the doors and out into the world. But that’s what makes the bathroom all the more special. We all do our part to be kind, to take care of one another, to offer grace or a listening ear when someone might need it. There is a mutual agreement we enter into the second we swing the doors open that says we take care of each other here. As I’ve gotten older I keep finding myself on the lookout for moments of kinship with the people around me. This is a normal experience, I think, to be drawn to opportunities that remind you you’re not alone in the world and that everyone around you has the capacity to be kind, to love, to protect. If the women’s bathroom at the shitty dive bar down the street is where I’m going to find the answers to the universe, so be it.

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Recipe for evie en rose

This is the cocktail Michael’s mom named after me, and is the inspiration for the title of this newsletter

5-6 basil leaves

4 cucumber slices

1/2 oz simple syrup

1/2 oz strawberry compote

2 oz vodka

1. Muddle basil, cucumber, simple syrup, and strawberry in a cocktail shaker

2. Add vodka and a generous amount of ice

3. Shake until cold, pour into a chilled martini glass, and enjoy