|
Today my husband and I had a typical shopping experience at Fred Meyer: he stayed downstairs in the grocery department and saved a fair amount of money on perfectly good quality bread, cheese, and...
Today my husband and I had a typical shopping experience at Fred Meyer: he stayed downstairs in the grocery department and saved a fair amount of money on perfectly good quality bread, cheese, and produce, as well as some fresh bulk candy. (When FM was bought by Kroger, I was told that the freshness of their produce and bulk food would go way downhill, but I haven't noticed this.) Meanwhile, I went upstairs to the clothing department, and I saved no money at all because I bought nothing at all. Their clothes are even cheaper in quality than in price—MUCH cheaper—and I decided to continue doing my shopping at thrift stores, where you can get six nearly new shirts for the price of one from Fred Meyer.
I did buy a pair of shoes from FM the other day that I am very happy with; they aren't the best quality, but I can't afford the best shoes. Still, if you're lucky enough to find the style you're looking for in good condition and in your size (which isn't terribly hard), you can usually get better shoes at thrift stores as well. Overall, I give Fred Meyer a 5 for their groceries and a 1 for their clothing, making an average of 3.
Hide
|
|
Viridis
Category:
Beauty Salons
117 Main St
Kirkland, Washington 98033
(425) 576-9345
[Added later: Ali has moved! Details at end of review.]
How many times have you brought a celebrity photo to your stylist and received a celebrity haircut? How many gorgeous haircuts still...
[Added later: Ali has moved! Details at end of review.]
How many times have you brought a celebrity photo to your stylist and received a celebrity haircut? How many gorgeous haircuts still looked great when you had to style them yourself the next day?
I once would have answered that these were inversely proportionate--and recommended a nice, reliable haircut over a fabulous, unrepeatable one. That was a long time ago.
Since 1993, when I first met Ali, I've had the satisfaction of knowing I'll always get the look I'd pictured. Because she listens--and cares--Ali understands what I want in addition to whether it suits my hair type and willingness to fuss with it. Knowing, as well, that I can't always schedule regular visits, she even suggests variations that won't get awkward while growing out. She tells me if I'll need special tools or products to get a look exactly right, and explains so carefully how to style it that, after some practice, I've learned to make my hair look almost as good on my own as on that first day.
Back when Ali worked at Sahaira in Bellevue, my sister Laurie was so sure I would love her (the stylist and the person) that she brought me along for one of her haircuts. Laurie, whose gorgeous hair seemed even more so lately than ever, had been seeing Ali for years, even after moving to Seattle; no one else understood the wavy, curly hair that Laurie and Ali and I have in common.
When Ali came out to meet us, with her adorable, genuine smile, I understood why Laurie was charmed. I made an appointment, and very soon understood Laurie's devotion. From that day--continuing through her move to Viridis--Ali has been my stylist. During some lean times, I've tried to save money with discount salons, but always regretted it. Worst was the haircut so awful that, in a panic, I tried to correct it myself: I ended up crying for weeks over all the damage before returning, at last, to the only person I trusted to fix such a mess--and while remaining completely unfazed. But even the non-traumatic times were a waste of money when I realized that, instead of a so-so, discount haircut every six or eight weeks, I could get a fantastic one half as often; Ali's cuts look better four months later than a new one from someone else.
Never before have I asked for advice about what to do with my hair--not even from friends, let alone from a stylist with no idea of my taste. A testament to my supreme faith in Ali is that I routinely visit her with no ideas, or helplessly conflicted between extremes (long or short, bangs or none, layered or not). Undaunted, Ali rushes away and returns with a stack of magazines, flipping through them with me and pointing out styles she recommends. Finding one that I love is just the beginning: next she wants to know what I like and dislike about it, asking more detailed questions than I'd ever thought could apply to a hairstyle. She listens close to my answers, and to the problems I describe in my hair, remembering things I've said and that she's observed in me from farther back than I remember myself. Even when I haven't seen her for years, as after a temporary move out of state, Ali remembers more about me than my doctors do from visit to visit.
When I'm certain Ali knows just what I want, she nevertheless goes back and repeats everything we've discussed, making absolutely sure she hasn't misunderstood. Only then do we go to the sinks--for a long and impossibly luxurious shampoo, with a neck and temple massage that alone are worth the cost of the visit. (For my sister Laurie, as well as an aunt who now sees Ali regularly, this is an integral part of the experience.)
Next is the haircut. Anyone else who suffers from acute shyness and thinks of a haircut in terms of the almost-inevitable small talk will understand my relief to discover Ali's comfort with silence and her respect for those who wish to observe it. On the other hand, those who love a thrilling, nonstop conversation will understand one of my favorite things about Ali--something I came to appreciate as soon as my initial shyness wore off: Ali is an uncommonly good conversationalist. At a time when it seems nearly everyone lacks the patience or interest or concentration, a careful listener is as rare as an interesting speaker. Ali is both.
After the cut is the styling--only if you want them. Having (in my purist youth) abhorred all styling products--even blow-dryers--and cringed when a hairdresser doused my head with CFC's, I always appreciated that Ali asked about these things. (Now she knows I'm happy with the works.) And since hairdressers get a commission on the salon's products, and some are pressured by their bosses to pressure the clients, I've always been struck by the fact that Ali NEVER acts like a salesperson. It's almost a cliche for a stylist to find some fault with your hair (or respond to your own complaint) by blaming your favorite products and urgently suggesting something else (which they happen to have on hand). An example of Ali's refreshing manner is this:
At my last visit, she asked which styling products I used and, when I named my favorite gel ($3.49 from Target), I couldn't help preparing myself for the kind of thing I was still used to from other hairdressers: "No wonder your ends are so dry--let me show you this other line." But, no--Ali just wanted to tell me how to use the products I already liked for the best results.
NOTE: This review was posted on 7/5/06, its rating solely based on Ali Black. On 4/19/07, she ended her six years with Viridis and moved to Bellevue, where she continues her five-star work at Salon SoMa. The comments above, which may or may not still apply to Viridis, are just as true of Ali now as ever.
Please look up Ali Black at Salon SoMa, Bellevue's Aveda Concept Salon, one block from Bellevue Square: 306 105th Ave. NE, Bellevue, WA 98004. See also www.SouthoftheMall.com or call 425-455-1343.
Hide
|
|
For four years, starting on the first of the new millennium, I successfully avoided nearly all chains. Then, after an income loss, I slowly allowed QFC and other supermarkets to replace the smaller,...
For four years, starting on the first of the new millennium, I successfully avoided nearly all chains. Then, after an income loss, I slowly allowed QFC and other supermarkets to replace the smaller, often more expensive grocers I’d started choosing exclusively.
Now I can't imagine why I chose QFC except out of habit (from the '80s and '90s) and a tendency to do my shopping at 3 a.m., when most other supermarkets are closed. Though QFC's prices are drastically lower than those of the independent convenience stores on my block, they're much higher than Safeway's and Fred Meyer's. And though I used to avoid Safeway because of their policies toward their employees, now I'm hearing awful things about the management of QFC. To top it off, several years ago QFC was bought by Kroger, the owners of Fred Meyer; they’re no longer the smallest of the chain supermarkets as they once were.
The four stars are for the pleasant shopping experience at QFC minus the medium-high prices (not quite as high as at Larry's). I still buy things there that I can’t get elsewhere, but I aim to stop doing even that. Since I live near the waterfront, my goal is to learn to do my shopping before 6 p.m. and fill all or most of my needs at Pike Place Market.
Hide
|
|
Though my whole family loves their pizza, the most amazing thing to me is that Pagliacci taught me to like salad—and, ever since watching them prepare it in their U-District branch, I’ve made mine...
Though my whole family loves their pizza, the most amazing thing to me is that Pagliacci taught me to like salad—and, ever since watching them prepare it in their U-District branch, I’ve made mine the same way. (The trick is mixing in the dressing with your bare hands.) The only one in my family who isn’t crazy for their food is my cousin, who delivered for them for several years—but that’s more from getting sick of them than from learning anything sinister about preparation methods. Highly recommended.
Hide
|
|
Even though I agree with the other reviewers of this store, that its prices make it better for browsing than for buying, I justify a high rating because they carry so many pieces by local artists. I...
Even though I agree with the other reviewers of this store, that its prices make it better for browsing than for buying, I justify a high rating because they carry so many pieces by local artists. I like their stained-glass boxes, and salad tongs shaped like human bones—and one Christmas I was the lucky recipient of the medieval-looking hammered-pewter measuring cups and spoons.
Since I first stopped in to the Westlake branch, almost twenty years ago, I’ve actually found fewer things that I like here instead of more, but I don’t know whether that’s a change in my tastes or in what the store carries. I still recommend stopping in.
Hide
|
|
The sunlight comes from the front walls of the two dining rooms, which are all window. Somehow it always seems sunny in here, even when the day is overcast. When I was a vegan, I had trouble...
The sunlight comes from the front walls of the two dining rooms, which are all window. Somehow it always seems sunny in here, even when the day is overcast. When I was a vegan, I had trouble deciding between the blushing lettuce salad with lemon tahini dressing (tahini has a tang sorely lacking in cheeseless diets) and the tostada (which normally came with cheese but could be made without). Whichever I chose, I always ordered a smoothie or one of the sugarless desserts. Breakfast is delicious and served all day.
Hide
|
|
I’ve read the other reviews, and it’s true what they say: this vegetarian restaurant—one of Seattle’s oldest—is run by the Seattle Sri Chinmoy Centre; in fact, their name was "given" to them by...
I’ve read the other reviews, and it’s true what they say: this vegetarian restaurant—one of Seattle’s oldest—is run by the Seattle Sri Chinmoy Centre; in fact, their name was "given" to them by Chinmoy himself. Silence-Heart-Nest, by serving healthful and tasty meals, strives to provide its customers "delicious food that satisfies both inwardly and outwardly, combined with a peaceful atmosphere." The female servers wear saris, and Indian music plays on the stereo. Most of the food is Indian but there are also American and international dishes, all vegetarian, with vegan dishes marked by a "v" on the menu, and wheat-free options. Desserts are sweetened with alternatives to white sugar.
No, the five stars are not to protect my soul from rebirth as an Untouchable; despite my teasing, I like the food, and I find the staff warm-loving-kind.
Hide
|
|
It’s probably unfair to rate this business without even having sat down there, but it’s kind of their fault.
Ever since moving to Belltown and passing the Hurricane every day on the way to the...
It’s probably unfair to rate this business without even having sat down there, but it’s kind of their fault.
Ever since moving to Belltown and passing the Hurricane every day on the way to the freeway, I’ve been inexplicably drawn to it, as if it were someplace famous. My husband and I tried to go there twice. The first time, when we stopped outside to check their hours (24), Chris thought they looked like a place where the destitute would drown in stale coffee bought with change left in coin returns. I, too, was intrigued—but also a little frightened. We drove away, but soon they started calling to me again. After all, we’d lived in Belltown three months and hadn’t even bought crack from the famous park just across from our hotel.
Today Chris stayed outside watching our bikes while, for the first time, I went into the Hurricane, stepping aside as a customer stumbled out and blinked in the overcast light. The main room was large and nearly empty, the four or five servers slouching behind a counter so far from the door they might have built it themselves, to allow as much distance as possible from the customers. ("It’s not too late to leave," they seemed to say.) The video arcade to the right was empty, and the whole place was quiet—no music, no clanking dishes, no buzzing conversation. All was gloomy-dark, the windows shaded as if to protect their clients from the knowledge of an outside world.
I didn’t know what I wanted, and it wasn’t the kind of place that encouraged impulse orders; no smells of coffee wafted across the room, nor did fruit pies beckon from their cases. Stalling, I went to the ATM just inside the door to check my debit balance. When the screen said I’d be charged $2.00 by the ATM’s owners for this transaction—the only time I’d ever heard of a fee for checking your balance—I was glad for the excuse to walk back outside, indignantly cheerful.
The customer who had left as I came in was telling Chris about the operation she needed but couldn’t pay for, and Chris looked as glad to see me as I was to see him. That’s the extent of my own experience with the Hurricane.
But, again, it doesn’t seem fair to rate a business that I know so little about, so I looked them up in a dining guide. (Of course I couldn’t use anything subjective I learned there, but maybe I would discover that the Hurricane hired only the handicapped, or donated profits to charities.) I chose a guide known for its generous and detailed reviews, but this review was only one sentence:
"Like a little greasy food with that shot and a beer?"
Hide
|
|
The summer of 1993, I spent every day longing to get off work and ride my bike here for the nearly perfect key lime pie. Key lime pie was the theme of that summer for me, and I tried every version I...
The summer of 1993, I spent every day longing to get off work and ride my bike here for the nearly perfect key lime pie. Key lime pie was the theme of that summer for me, and I tried every version I could find: Coco’s, Denny’s, Larry’s . . . that year, the one at Larry’s was voted "best key lime pie" by The Seattle Times, and it was undeniably superb, but not my fantasy. Marie Callendar’s is abundantly creamy, and topped with enough whipped cream to make every bite deliciously nauseating. The graham cracker crust is wonderfully crumbly (at its worst, kind of hard and almost pebbly, but that’s rare), and the filling so insanely tangy that I can’t believe I used to be able to eat my own large slice and then finish that of my guest. I’ve tried the pie since then—very recently—and it’s just as good as ever, but now I can only eat two bites before I want to put it away for later.
Hide
|
|
Great pasta, with a charming but noisy atmosphere; perhaps a good place to eat with someone you don’t yet feel comfortable talking with—unless you get one of the quieter corner tables. During a time...
Great pasta, with a charming but noisy atmosphere; perhaps a good place to eat with someone you don’t yet feel comfortable talking with—unless you get one of the quieter corner tables. During a time of rare prosperity, my husband and I came here more than once a week and waited extra-long if necessary for one of our favorite two seats in the front window; the place was so bustling that middle tables made us feel like we were dining on the Audubon. Owned by the owners of Stella’s Trattoria near the Metro Tenplex with similar late-night hours (after midnight on weekends).
Hide
|