Editor's note: Chris Kissel's Last Night about Vito's was originally published in early November, but I was at Vito's yesterday after work, and feel compelled to repost Kissel's shout out. The place is so doused  in nostalgia that you can pretend it's Weimar Germany, bootlegger Chicago, a '60s soul shack, a '70s fern bar, or an '80s drug den. And the music calendar fulfills all those fantasies and more.

Last night, I went to Vito's for the first time. The Vito's of Seattle lore was a swanky cocktail lounge, opened in 1953 when Seattle was still a backwater of hipster cats and longshoremen, where guys like Frank Colacurcio hung out and ate cannelloni. It closed in 2009 after two fatal shootings, and now it's back, restored, and probably a little safer—these days, it's more like a combination living history museum/spendy restaurant than a den of hoodlums and thieves.

I walked down to Vito's to see a friend sing some lounge-y tunes behind the grand piano, and also had the pleasure of visiting the Cougar Room—the private dining room in the back that once upon a time was known as the "Vagabond Room" and apparently hosted decades of lewd acts that are too unspeakable to mention in this tamer century. Now it has a full-sized stuffed (real?) cougar named Barbara who lives behind a glass case.