Belltown | A daylight visit to Seattle's haven of hip

So it was about 9 a.m. when I arrived by bus at Third Avenue and Bell Street in downtown Seattle. Awfully early to be doing this, but at least I had decent weather — chill blue skies, air filled with tornadic swirls of red and yellow leaves. Outside the window I saw a much-trampled dog-run park, mutts everywhere with people trotting behind, one hand gloved in plastic awaiting the blessed event so they could get to work.

Then my eyes focused close-in on a message left by some previous occupant of my seat. The words fingered into window condensation said: "You suck." Was this a sign as I set off to see Belltown by day?

Belltown by night is known for its urban, hip nightlife, a party rep that has caught the attention of both our mayor and police chief because of the occasional gunfight and assorted bad-boy mayhem. (To you who are, even now, composing e-mail about the gross misrepresentation of Belltown by my mention of a few isolated incidents in an otherwise diverse and peaceful neighborhood, let me just say, keep reading.)

Belltown in the raw light of day is a whole different deal. It's all about window shopping the finer things of life that I can't possibly afford — gorgeous, modern furniture; beautifully made clothing. It's about finding Nirvana's first venue, and seeking out a patch of plants in a canyon of concrete.

Unofficial borders

First, to get oriented. I wasn't clear on the boundaries, but red Belltown banners on light poles seemed to imply the rough border is Stewart Street on the south, north to Denny. I've read that the original heart of it is Second Avenue and Bell Street, so I went there to observe the current residents: a small market; a cafe for people in recovery; a popular Mexican restaurant; and one big hole in the ground, perhaps the next condo tower. What used to be a neglected, squat neighborhood underwent a demographic-180 in the last 20 years, much of it straight up. This is condo central, a lot of penthouse money up there.

My next stop was at the lipstick-red storefront of Vain, the beloved baby of Victoria Thomas Gentry, a 44-year-old entrepreneur who dreamed of creating a kind of community-center-gallery-art-studio-hairstyling-salon. Despite a rough start during the dot-com bust and post-9/11 funk, she succeeded, recently expanding to a second store in Ballard. In Belltown, the upstairs includes renovated, affordable artist studios, and downstairs, brick walls showcase the work of emerging artists. Gentry regularly turns over the space to nonprofits for fundraisers.

Gentry called it a mission. "We want to give back as much as we can. This was never intended to be a hipster salon. It's a community of people, a comfortable place, and we get all kinds in here."

Pink hair and piercings are plentiful, but so are pinstripes. "Fishermen have their hair cut here, attorneys, artists. I love it," Gentry said.

Plus, this is hallowed ground with history. Vain employee Lisa Matson, 41, gave me a tour of the upstairs studio space, once rooms in the Vogue Hotel. She pointed to a bathroom door that still bears the word, "Gents." The Vogue Hotel morphed into the Vogue nightclub, helping to launch groups like Nirvana, which had its first professional gig here in 1988. "We still get Nirvana tourists coming by to see this place," Matson said.

No inventory problem

There's more history a few doors down — the Federal Army & Navy Surplus store. In the 1950s, it was located farther south by the Federal Building (hence the name), but moved to Belltown in the '80s. One of the owners in this family business, Henry Schaloum, remembers the risk of that decision. "Belltown was so rundown, a lot of closed stores, and junk stores. We thought that it would grow one day, and we were right. It did, with all the condos, upscale restaurants, retail and clubs."

His store is a treat to browse. I even found a pile of Navy bell-bottoms like the ones I bought in the misty past at the original shop. "They don't make these anymore," Schaloum said. "But they're still affordable — $24.99." He's not worried about running out of surplus any time soon. "We'll always have the military."

Back on the street, walking north, I was almost immediately enveloped by the yeasty smell of baking bread. I followed it to Macrina Bakery, the first of what has grown to three locations, thanks to its specialty — artisan breads. I sat down at one of a handful of tables and ordered aromatic coffee and lunch — grilled crostini, an open-faced sandwich of roasted tomatoes, wilted spinach topped with dry jack cheese on crunchy bread. Heavenly, fabulous, to take advantage of daytime Belltown. No crowds.

A cup o' philosophy

Warmed by the atmosphere and food, I set out to look for Belltown's P-Patch, an anachronism if there ever was one. Or so I thought. I found it on the corner of Vine Street and Elliott Avenue, a tiny dot of nature entirely surrounded by high-rises, parking lots and obnoxious traffic. But I guess that's the point. The patch offers relief from busyness and bigness, with about 40 terraced plots. At the foot of the property are three renovated cottages, the only ones still standing from a housing project that built 11 cottages between the 1850s and 1920 for waterfront workers.

A woman pulling weeds from her small garden told me that she'd been working it for about a year before deciding to move to Belltown from Capitol Hill. "I feel safe here," Sandi Hogben said, countering headlines about violence. "There are always lots of people around, even at night. I love having everything right here. You don't even need a car. Belltown is like a small village."

Later, I trudged through condo canyons looking for coffee. A local told me to try his favorite hangout, the Cherry Street Coffee House. Very comfy it was, with cozy window seats stuffed with pillows. This is one of several downtown cafes owned by Ali Ghambari, who came here from Iran in 1979. Because each coffee house reflects its neighborhood, they're all a little different, but they do share Ghambari's philosophy. It's printed on the coffee cups: "Love and Community."

And that's the last impression I had of Belltown — not sporadic trouble, or hostile graffiti on a bus window. But good, old-fashioned love and community — the values of a village revealed in the stark light of day.

Connie McDougall of Seattle, a regular contributor to Northwest Weekend, is a writer/editor for Seattle City Light. Contact her: conniemcdougall@yahoo.com.