Location: 1639 R St. NW
Readers’ Pick: Town Danceboutique
D.C.’s LGBTQ nightlife scene differentiates itself from other clubs for the high-energy music and better-looking bartenders. And despite the myriad of LGBTQ dance clubs in our flamboyant quadrant, Cobalt is an easy favorite.
During the daylight, the Dupont Circle multilevel complex has Level One – a restaurant that hosts hilarious drag brunches on weekends – on the ground floor. Although Level One has been closed for renovation since December, it looks to open again sometime in spring.
The building’s second floor is the 30degrees lounge, an open bar space that fills up later at night. Once 10 p.m. strikes, the upstairs dance floor we know and love opens.
You never know who you will see at Cobalt. When I attended one tipsy night, the unthinkable happened at the 21+ ID check. I glanced up the stairs to see Tatianna – D.C.’s resident RuPaul’s Drag Race contestant – in full drag and absolutely stunning, waving like royalty at me. Mouth agape, I knew in that moment Cobalt was the gayest place to be.
Cobalt is open seven days a week with rotating events and often with no cover charge.
Events include the Monday night drag show and Gaymer Tuesdays, where the monitors that usually show music videos have console games like Rocket League and Super Smash Bros. Every third Saturday of the month, Cobalt teams up with event organizers Lure D.C. to put on BARE nights for LGBTQ ladies, and Rumba Latina nights occur every first Saturday.
Some folks favor the Dupont Circle club on Thursdays, a night with no cover, $3 rail drinks from 10 p.m. to midnight and an underwear contest that customers can join. Only one will win the $200 cash prize, but all contestants get egged on and heckled by drag queen hostess Kristina Kelly.
Forget $20 cover fees or onslaughts of straight infiltrators found at other popular LGBTQ bars. At Cobalt, you can work it out to Beyonce’s “Get Me Bodied (Extended Mix)” with no obstacles and dance your best Jersey turnpike to “No Scrubs.”
Here you can grind on a stranger without being packed like a sardine, then reconvene with friends between hip shakes to “Baby One More Time.” There is nothing heterosexual in this lime-lit space.
