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As soon as you see the glass cases that flank the walls, you realize Marlena's is a place that loves it some kitsch: a rotating cast of figurines, which change with the season, is on display in the cases. During the summer, you might think you wandered into a Disney Store. In the fall and close to Halloween, Harry Potter collectibles take over. At Christmas, more than 1,200 Santas fill the bar. When it's time for the Mr. Hayes Valley leather competition, scepters, news clippings, tiaras, and other drag-queen memorabilia gussy up the place. Active in the community with their own softball and pool teams and having hosted Mr. Hayes Valley for 10 years, Marlena's is a straight-friendly neighborhood gay bar, a sass-free, mellow option for the veteran drag queen and down-to-earth Hayes Valley resident alike.
It's been about a week since the annual Santa-splosion has happened at Marlena's, the gay/dive bar on the main drag in Hayes Valley. This year brings 1,400 Santas of varying shapes, sizes, and species... More »
The odds of seeing a fistfight at the Hayes & Vine Wine Bar are roughly equivalent to those of President George W. Bush changing his middle name to "Whiskey Makes You Smarter." As Saturday evening blooms across the city, the vibe here is... More »
In a city where drag performers tend to favor the postmodern — where drag becomes arch-ironic "drag" — the Saturday night Follies at Marlena's offer a refreshingly unself-conscious alternative: old-school ladies sing Tammy Wynette and Patsy Cline for a crowd that includes the pre-Stonewall set and the Hayes Valley gentrifiers. You'll never pay a cover, the drinks are potent, and the clientele isn't liable to give you any attitude. (Fresh young things from the Castro probably won't find a hot buck to take them home, but that's why God created Saturday nights at the Underground — aka Drunk and Horny — just a few blocks uphill.) As for the bar's famous seasonal decorations: Yes, they're completely insane. A holiday visit will treat you to hundreds of Santa dolls plastered on the walls, suggesting what might happen if Paul Lynde got his hands on a Franklin Mint catalog and a week's supply of meth.
In a city where drag performers tend to favor the postmodern -- where drag becomes arch-ironic "drag" -- the Saturday night Follies at Marlena's offer a refreshingly unself-conscious alternative: old-school ladies sing Tammy Wynette and Patsy Cline for a crowd that includes the pre-Stonewall set and the Hayes Valley gentrifiers. You'll never pay a cover, the drinks are potent, and the clientele isn't liable to give you any attitude. (Fresh young things from the Castro probably... More »
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