Hipster Throwback Bars Can't Help My Quarter-Life Crisis

Located in the heart of Hollywood, Good Times at Davey Wayne's is a bar that boasts a totally bitchin' '70s theme. It's only a few months old, but it's designed to look like a mashup between a backyard party and a basement gathering from the decade that brought us shag carpeting and Led Zeppelin.

I'm used to frequenting dive bars that literally haven't been changed since the '70s, but those bars were unintentionally making me feel like I'm actually drinking in a different decade. They mostly make me feel like I should wash my hands after touching almost anything inside, where being hit on by groups of elderly men with few teeth is some sort of depressing rite of passage for every woman that walks in the room. I wondered if Good Times at Davey Wayne's could possibly be more authentic. Can a bar built on kitsch succeed in making me feel like I am drinking in a decade I've never actually experienced? Could it really make me nostalgic for a time in American culture during which I wasn't even alive?

I visited on a Monday evening, knowing that going to a Hollywood bar on the weekend would be the exact definition of hell. Upon arriving, two different door men checked my ID and pointed to the bar's not-so-secret entrance: a refrigerator door.

I went up a small flight of stairs and heard disco playing softly. The bar smelled like the sweat of the night before, and was dimly lit. Some old records were on the wall, and ugly couches were everywhere. The outside was instantly nicer, mainly because there were no ugly couches. A few small groups of people sat on perfectly crafted torn chairs, tiny hammocks, and benches. A small camper served as the bar, and a barbecue right next to it cooked up pork sandwiches and corn on the cob. I could have paid a few extra dollars to get my drink served in an orange mug that says "#1 Dad" on it—I guess moms didn't exist in the '70s—but instead I got an Old Fashioned from the tap. Beers were cheaper, and perhaps a tall can would have been more decade-appropriate, but it's hard for me to say no to an Old Fashioned on tap. Which, of course, has nothing to do with the '70s. I just thought it was cool.

I took my drink outside, sat on a bench, and lit a cigarette, staring at the string lighting adorning a nearby tree. T. Rex's "20th Century Boy" started playing, and at that moment I began to feel like maybe, just maybe, I had been whisked away to the '70s. I started to feel like a young teenager in a different era, like I was at a party that my older brother was secretly throwing without our parent's permission, and none of his friends wanted to talk to me because I hadn't developed breasts yet.

My fantasy came to an abrupt stop, however, when a woman wearing an oversized hat rushed to a man sitting by me to tell him that she was available to DJ his "epic" pool party on Saturday. With my illusion shattered, I got up and walked over to the barbecue. I ordered $5 "Street Corn," paid with my credit card, and felt like a shitty Millennial again.

I went back inside to order another drink then tried to play the vintage pinball machine which, sadly, was not actually playable. It was only a decoration, as were the vintage framed beer cans, and the vintage record player.

That itself became something of a metaphor for Good Times, and maybe for all the new throwback bars like this one. Its attempt at authenticity became just an awkward rehash of '70s tropes designed for a hipster audience, who presumably didn't care whether any of this accurate or original. If only I could play some pinball, I kept thinking. If only the beer cans weren't framed, maybe I could've felt transported to the time intended, and not like I was in a museum exhibit.

Perhaps I am asking too much of Davey Wayne's, but I had hoped that this bar could help me escape, if only for a few hours, my obsession with my smartphone and my need to check for Twitter notifications every six minutes. I wanted to momentarily go back to a decade before "blogosphere" was a word, and when today's ironic vintage t-shirts were worn earnestly, as though the 1970s were somehow more real than 2014. Of course, the most Millennial thing about me is thinking that a previous generation had it better.

Basically, this bar can't solve my quarter-life crisis. It does, however serve alcohol—and moderately priced alcohol at that. In this kind of situation, that's a great plan B.