Hey Mambo

Pure, unadulterated joy is the look permanently affixed to the face of a man doing the mambo to the music of Seattle band Mango Son at Babalu on a hot Wednesday night. The band is just beginning to warm up, and so is the bar—the AC was cranked up in advance to accommodate for the heat generated from dancing bodies that will later fill the room. They’ll be tightly packed, though, as there’s not much space on the dance floor. Babalu’s swank, chandeliered interior is like an overstuffed furniture showroom, packed to the gills with tables surrounded by giant circular leather benches—so many, it’s tough to navigate through them, let alone the twists and twirls that dominate the free space. Open just two months (in the former Wonder Bar space on the corner of 45th and Wallingford), the new night spot’s clientele hardly seems to mirror the neighborhood’s demographic, which is generally dominated by organically groomed moms with jogging strollers and grad students. On this night, the crowd is as diverse (in race, sex, and age) as the bookings on other evenings—from funk to Brazilian—and the focus is more on cheering for your favorite pair, less on cheesy pickup lines. 1723 N. 45th St., 633-4500.