We're Building a Parlor by the Shipyard

Just sixty seconds off of Route 1 sits our new little kitchen in Bath, Maine.

It's down an industrial road and across the street from Bath Iron Works, where five thousand engineers build two Naval Destroyers each year. When you arrive, you are welcomed by the sounds of metal grinding and forklifts in reverse. The only spots to park are skinny, unmarked neighborhood roads.

I've been a little self-conscious about this place versus our rented (or borrowed!) tasting locations, but something dawned on me recently. In all of my efforts to live life as a seaside wench, I have really doubled down with this one. I now own an oyster parlor next to a shipyard---a working, dusty 142-year-old shipyard. And while I dream of rural roads lined with wildflowers, a veggie patch, and an oyster tasting room with a big seaside patio, this feels like an honest, natural beginning. After all, the basement bars in red light districts were where oysters earned their stripes.

I've spent two years hosting gorgeous oyster tastings on rooftops, boats, and beaches, but I needed to nest, to feel at home. Our shared commercial kitchen was nearly forty minutes from Phippsburg. Each day, I was hauling "ocean rocks" and ice everywhere. I stuffed napkins and plates and pebbles into venue bureaus and storage closets. 

Our new kitchen took four months to build, two more months to make operational, and one more to certify as our own commercial space. Late in that process, our health inspector said, "you know, this could be an eating place if you wanted it to be." In shock, I looked around at all the PVC and concrete that I had just spent thousands of dollars installing, and rolled my eyes. 

"Cover up everything. Everything!" I told Warwick as we began nailing frames to sterile walls. 

Could this be a test kitchen? An oyster market? A bar? Well, the lighting is all wrong. Vibes too cold. Too echoey. We're by the shipyard. I didn't prep the flower beds for this! What are we doing?

For the next month, I began recreating a business plan that allowed us to use this place for catering, hosting, and selling oysters. We just needed to come up with a good name and some texture inside.

I landed on "The Parlor" for the name. Small. Cozy. Enough for four bar seats and one-on-one chats with guests. The history of the word, "parlor," was fascinating to explore. The term was derived from the French word, Parler, which means "to speak." It was a formal room that originally signified a higher social status, and it was often the lady's domain. But as times changed, so did the parlor. Beyond tea parties and entertaining guests, it was used as a safe gathering place for women to discuss politics and become active in social reform. The room evolved from women gentility to an egalitarian, communal living space. When outside restaurants and ice cream shops adopted the term, it was to initially help women know where they could convene in public places, unchaperoned. 

I don't need to be any more direct on why I chose this word for a company named, "Lady Oyster,"  but in doing so I knew that it would have to be the most welcoming space I could create, and open to all. It wouldn't be anything resembling a Victorian-era parlor. We had no more money for ornate mahogany, and we were still nextdoor to a shipyard.

Then I found this new design trend, “nostalgic taverna,” (thanks, Eater) which is the apparent counterculture to “millennial minimalism.” (Side bar: I am not sure why we always have to condemn my generation for interior faux pas. One day we’re blamed for lifeless gray, the next, “Instagrammable pink.”)

I could really get behind a style that made a place feel as lived-in as my grandma’s kitchen, where all of her beloveds are framed on the back wall... Where pressed linens drape and frilly aprons hang. There are display-only oyster plates, intensely warm lights, and a smudgy chalkboard with a handwritten menu under an old, daily motto.

I think this tiny parlor is just the right canvas for all of the above, blending lady-like history with clutter and wise chatter. I am still pinning inspiration for bar stools, rugs, and lighting, etc., and I'll likely never be happy with what I choose. But the Parlor is coming. She'll be full of local oysters, great wine, and the neighborhood gossip. I can't wait to see you there.

-Virginia

P.S. We'll be launching in early May. More to come!