A little more than a year ago, a lounge called Q opened on upper Queen Anne. The space—formerly the restaurant Sapphire—is lodged among upper Queen Anne's new wine bars, fancy soap shops, high-end baby outfitters, and other purveyors of what the neighborhood now wants. Q, a quintessential sexy-little-urban-cocktail-place, trafficked in pleasing upper Queen Anne's young urban professional women: colorful drinks in martini glasses, food apportioned onto small plates, lighting to complement improbable blond hair and dubious cleavage. Their men tended toward producted hair, diagonal-striped dress shirts, and light beer with Jäger shots. (And, in one case, startling ontological honesty—asked for an opinion of Q on opening night, the man in question said, "I feel that I've reached a level of evolution where I can admit that I have nothing to add.")
Q didn't last long, possibly dragged down by its sibling establishment, the abysmal Drey's in Madrona. Three guys took over this past summer, remodeled, and now it's Sully's Lounge. If Q's target audience was yuppie women and the men who want to get in their pants, Sully's seems more gender-neutral, though confusing. One of the new owners, Marcus, says they're going for a "comfy, cozy, homey feel," but with a flat-screen broadcasting the world series of poker (and two more tuned to ESPN) among gilt-framed mirrors, curlicued candle sconces, and Coldplay, Sully's walks a weird line. It's sort of casual, sort of upscale, up to and including its name: "Sully's" connotes neighborhood-Irish-pub; "Lounge" goes in an entirely different direction.
Sully's menu goes from retro (wedge-of-iceberg salad with blue cheese and bacon) to nouveau (tea-smoked duck). The fries are sweet-potato, even though everyone probably would prefer potato-potato. Snacks, of the passable-bar-food variety, don't do much to inspire a venture into entrée territory. Of note: mini lamburgers so hot and juicy that they are actually dangerous; Cajun shrimp, fairly spicy but oddly lodged in a mound of mashed potatoes; and (the loser) vinegar-intensive wings apparently from rubber chickens.
Marcus is understandably not that into talking about Q. When pressed, he describes the former color scheme as North Carolina blue, which sounds like contemporary paint-store syntax but proves to be a reference to the chosen hue of the UNC Tar Heels. Sully's is wine/burgundy/maroon and a difficult-to-pinpoint tan (caramel? buttered toast? dun?). The bar is dark and shiny, the booths painted Is-This-Black-or-Brown (and not all that homey, being high backed, hardwood, and cushionless). The mosaic medallion in the center of the ceiling, leftover from several redecorations ago, remains resolutely Mediterranean (or is it North Carolinian?) blue.
Sully's Lounge, 1625 Queen Anne Ave N, 283-3900.