Saturday, August 16, 2014

My One Night Stand At The Deep Ellum Candy Shop...

I would just like to let everyone know that even 20- and 30-somethings can be enticed by candy shops. Not 50 Cent's version, but actual candy shops with a window displaying M&M's and Snickers. However, I knew I had a blog post the moment I found the "candy shop" I was invited to last night, ironically similar to 50 Cent's version. Open for all kinds of business 'til 2AM, and potentially ran by the mafia. Attracting ratchet crowds in Forever 21 garb, impatiently waiting to be escorted in. Pun intended. Just calling it what it is, you guys.

And the 4 sq. ft. candy exterior fooling most? Not for sale. You all know I inquired. In typical Mallory fashion, as I jokingly mentioned the suggestion to the Paris Hiltons next to me who didn't get my sarcasm. Felt like I was back at SMU. Because the universe f*cked up and forgot to give some people a sense of humor. So things got awkward and I did the whole "I'm pretending to read an important text I somehow received at this very moment" maneuver. You all know the faux text look. Scrunched eyebrows, intense focus, as you scroll through tweets. FYI, the candy wasn't for sale because most of the customers don't eat solid foods, let alone Hershey bars.

I'm generally in the know of all things Deep Ellum, along with local hole-in-the-walls. Especially word-of-mouth ones off the radars. And especially ones with "gobstopper" as the club's password to get in and where Oompa Loompas and Willy Wonkas supposedly mingle. But I'd never heard of this candy shop, which FYI, had no Oompa Loompas or Willy Wonkas as promised by groupies in line. Veruca Salts were rampant, though, so how I was unaware is beyond me. But the Deep Ellum badass that is Christie Wallace deserves a golden ticket for showing me what is up on Elm.

Also the only human proudly announcing "gobstopper" was $30k millionaire contestant of the evening #84, hoping she'd be exclusive and curtsy past the commoners, despite falling out of her Uber moments before. But none for Gretchen Weiners since "gobstopper" was publicly posted on Facebook; at that point we knew we had a Fulbright Scholar on our hands. And by "we" I mean me and the six multicultural guys still waiting in line because they lacked dudebro status. Drunk Scott Disicks, subsequent Tara Reids, and Uptown's finest passed inspection. Others had to slip $20 (oddly suggested by a well-dressed man just hangin' out) to a bouncer uninterested, even after being called "racist" by a tipsy DJ Khaled doppelgänger, unfortunately not dudebro enough for the silver fox bossman. How did I know he called the shots? I have two eyes skilled in spotting ego, and two ears skilled in spotting classy name droppers with whispers stating the obvious.

And yours truly was sober, sweet, and suspicious. Or so it seemed to the Jersey Shore staff glaring in addition to $20 suggestion guy telling me twice what sounded like an extravagant Yelp review, never to be published. But my friends were already inside Wonkaland so my bad. And being sober inhibited my dance skills once inside 40 minutes later, but it worked out well for my Becky Oliver questioning so that you guys got all the deets. I would've waited 40 more minutes because behind candy shop doors was a character GOLD MINE. People-watching mecca, I tell you. Girls all over were doing what I like to call the "sorority dance move" where you subtly sway left to right, typically in a circle of girls, also all awkward, single, and white. And there were plenty sloppy couples practically making babies, creepy people you'd find on Craigslist, and a tiny population of normal weirdos with Charlie Bucket curiosity, like me. And our DCH group had plenty of fun for obvious reasons. The music was pretty top-notch, too, and the AC blasting 60-degree temps is deserving of a 5-star Yelp review alone.

Despite all of my clues, if you're a blind pig like I was and still have no idea what I'm talking about, I'll tell you... Dallas' latest hidden gem, literally, I was privileged to experience/survive, and appropriately dubbed the "clandestine new bar" by Dallas Culture Map and "Deep Ellum's seductive new speakeasy" by the Edge is Truth & Alibi. The only bar I know capable of causing the need for many alibis. That's the truth. (God, could I get any more cheesy here?) Had my iPhone not been in a bad mood I would've documented everything T&A. But no picture or blog post could ever portray how weird it was. I guess if there's a candy shop speakeasy naturally it would be in Deep Ellum, where weird is normal. Or is it where normal is weird? Regardless, the Deep Ellum Candy Shop is just another hot mess bar you should check out for the sake of Wonka-weird camaraderie.