The Ruby Fruit

Opening night at The Ruby Fruit is packed to the brim with every wine-loving Sapphic in Silver Lake. The tiny space rivals Cubbyhole, with a few hightops and booths tucked into the walls. Bar space is coveted and crowded, and I manage to camp out on a stool for a few hours. The space is overwhelmingly filled with Dykes, and leans very white and affluent, not surprising for Silver Lake. There are an inordinate amount of white AFABs with brunette bobs and bangs, the bisexual LA stereotype. I spot two LA TikTok celesbians in the first five minutes. 

I first heard about The Ruby Fruit in the form of an excited Instagram DM from the owners, Mara and Emily. We had chatted at their previous pop-up hot dog stand, Big Al’s Sip and Bite, a few months ago and I had mentioned The Long Road to Lesbos. Needless to say, I immediately dubbed myself the unofficial Ruby Fruit ambassador and told every Dyke I knew. A Lesbian bar in my city after nearly a decade without one? My dreams have come true. Emily and Mara both greet me with a hug, and as I catch sight of them throughout the night, they seem busy and happy, the energy buzzing tangibly around the space. The employees are overwhelmingly queer and seem absolutely stoked to be here. 

Sherry anyone?

There is a line out the door, and the crowd spills into the strip-mall parking lot. With the recent Hot Donna’s Clubhouse fiasco, the LA Dyke community is ready for something to put our faith in, and I have hopes that The Ruby Fruit will fill that hole. The Ruby Fruit took over the restaurant Eszett, both owners were previous employees, and were able to remake the space into the Lesbian wine bar of our dreams. 

 The drink menu packs a heavy punch of natural wine, with a few beers and N/A drinks thrown in for good measure. My $20 per bar road trip budget is laughable in the face of $17 glasses of wine, but ol’ reliable Miller Lite is a cool $5. There is an elevated small plates menu that sounds delicious for date night, with Italian-inspired dishes and a hot dog for good measure, an homage to Big Al’s. While pricey for a Lesbian bar, the dishes are on par with the trendy Silver Lake crowd. 

The decor is simple: pink walls, a few nude paintings, and books and plants line the high shelf with the eponymous Ruby Fruit Jungle taking prime placement. Cookbooks, bouquets of sunflowers, and wine bottles collect in corners, truly my ideal space. The Ruby Fruit aims to be “a Cheers for Lesbians” and I can already see this dream becoming a reality. People mingle and move through the space, laughter rings against the wine glasses. The space immediately feels comfortable, a place to flirt and laugh and kiss and love. 

There is only a single stall “no TERFs” bathroom for the space, so the line stretches into the restaurant. In line, I make pleasant conversation with another Dyke with a notebook in hand (god bless the journalers). The bathroom line mingling is next level. I give up my coveted bar stool, and when I return from the restroom, my spot has been commandeered by a couple making out, which is really the best-case scenario. 

Of course, no Lesbian bar is complete without a flannel hanging in the corner.

The crowd is dressed LA casual, jeans and nice tops and expensive shoes. I feel slightly overdressed in suit pants and oxfords. Everyone seems to be paired up in couples or groups, and like usual, I am one of the few here alone. In the mirror behind the bar, the crowd acts out a play of Lesbian Americana. I make eye contact through the mirror, bump arms, and feel the warmth of bodies. We are all connected by this overflowing Lesbian love, it spreads through the space like the ink of my pen in my notebook. 

The packed bodies further emphasize the long-awaited need for a Lesbian bar in Los Angeles. The Ruby Fruit is too small to serve as the only Dyke bar for the nearly 10 million people living in Los Angeles County. We need a Dyke bar for every persuasion and predilection. I want a Dyke bar where we can finger fuck in the bathroom and a Dyke bar to share glasses of wine and discuss theory. I want a Leather Dyke bar, a sports Dyke bar, a dive Dyke bar with a battered pool table. 

I talk to a group sitting at the center high top about my trip, my old refrain and conversation maker. One of them is from Toronto and laments about how many Dyke bars that city holds. Like my fantasy, there is a bar for every kind of Dyke, and I start mentally planning a trip to Canada. 
The line outside only grows, the Dykes of LA desperate to be allowed into our new safe haven. The energy is excited, frenetic, everyone soaking in all of the Lesbian community they can. The smells of cologne and wine permeate, an atmosphere of Sapphic delight. People brush against me like they know me.

Mara catches me writing and laughs, “Are you studying us? Oh my god, you’re amazing.” I am a self-appointed anthropologist of Lesbian bars, observing the state of queer community in all its many forms. Later, Emily grabs me by the shoulders to ask how I’m doing and I feel a sense of belonging. This is my life, I get to go to Lesbian bars and chat with the owners and flirt with Dykes and drink wine to my heart’s content. 

The space somehow becomes even more packed as the night goes on, again reminding me of how crowded Cubbyhole was, even on a weeknight. We don’t care, we care only about being here with our community, about the love that fills every space not occupied by bodies. The Ruby Fruit is not necessarily the bar to go to for cruising, ultimately it’s set up for a restaurant space, but that doesn’t mean that we sure as hell won’t try. 

At some point I catch myself mingling, a sure result of the 4 glasses of wine I’ve had. I talk about goals and desires and Lesbian bars with lovely Dykes whose names I immediately forget. I keep expecting to recognize an ex or an old friend, but mostly I recognize an intrinsic loneliness within myself. I am most comfortable with a pen in hand, an observer to this miracle around me. 

As the night goes on, the space slowly clears, spilling into the parking lot where the party continues. My notebook is the best conversation starter I have. Someone asks what I’m writing about, and I tell them about my journey and my dream to open up a Lesbian bar of my own someday. We talk about what we want the community to look like, why I want this, and how to dedicate ourselves to our community. They tell me they host pop-ups and how they’re looking forward to my concept. I confide in them about my anxieties, my fear that I am both too young and too old. I want to create the space of my dreams, don’t I? Why do I think that dreaming has an age limit?

I chat with a 40-something Dyke about The Palms, LA’s Lesbian bar for nearly 50 years, that closed in 2013. We talk about the history that lived within its walls and its annual Chosen Family Thanksgiving party. The Palms was demolished, and a luxury apartment building took its place. I talk with a new friend about the need for queer bars in the Valley, where I live and someday hope to open my own Lesbian bar. I am wished luck over and over on my dreams, and am reminded of how deeply I love Lesbians. 

See a mirror, take a mirror selfie.

I think about how different The Ruby Fruit is compared to the now-defunct Hot Donna’s. Hot Donna’s popped up on Instagram a few years ago, claiming to be starting a new Lesbian bar in West Hollywood. For a while, Hot Donna’s hosted huge fundraisers, classes, parties, and meetups to raise the funds for a brick-and-mortar space. Interestingly, they never seemed to focus much on the alcohol or bar aspect, to me, most of their fundraising seemed to be mostly putting their name onto events that didn’t focus on being a bar. They built up hype and a brand, before announcing they were taking a break in the summer of 2022 and would be back in a few months. That deadline came and went, with no word from the team until they responded to Lilly Brown’s video, linked above. Despite all of the fundraising and work from the team, Hot Donna’s was unable to make their dream a reality, and claim all money raised was spent on further fundraising. 

Comparatively, The Ruby Fruit took over Eszett’s space in late January, turning around for opening less than a month later. Sure, there are other factors at play, and it’s far easier to take over a space that already has everything you need, but it’s shocking to me how quickly something can come together when you put your mind to it. I noticed this when I was living in Vermont and became friends with local organizers. Again and again, I saw people have great ideas, then immediately get caught within bureaucracy, usually of their own making. Even in the short time I was there, I saw multiple events fizzle out or become unwieldy and overcomplicated due to the desire to “do everything right.”

 And sure, you definitely need to make sure that you’re doing the best you can by your community, that you are radically inclusive and accepting, but too often we get caught in cycles of needing everything to be perfect and without fault, which only leads to there being not enough to go around. Events are far and few between, or there are too many events by people who are not putting any of that care in and create unsafe spaces for our community. There is power in simply jumping in head first, having a strong moral compass and sense of direction, and letting yourself figure it out as you go. 

Towards the end of the night, Emily and Mara make a speech thanking everyone for coming, and we cheers to “The first LA Lesbian bar in a decade!”

At 10 pm, the lights turn on, and we are politely shuffled out into the LA night. Patrons linger in the parking lot, not ready to leave this dream come true behind quite yet. I personally have faith that The Ruby Fruit will become a staple of the LA Lesbian scene, and I hope for even more Lesbian community spaces to follow in its wake. 

If you’re local, you might just catch me drinking wine at the bar some night. Stop by and say hello, I’ll be waiting. 

Love: Infinite. 

Los Angeles, CA