When the news abounded that the city’s Jorge on George venue had been revamped, I almost felt disappointment that Brisbane had bid adieu to such a fabulous cocktail bar. Many a night at Jorge knee deep in sublime cocktail concoctions remain lodged in my brain as I waved farewell to an era. When it was announced that Jorge had been renamed to Little Jumbo, I was left intrigued: what could such a name imply? The launch was to answer all my questions whilst amassing more precious moments in time.
Walking up the red carpet towards the entrance, I was received by burly bouncers whose bodies and faces seemed carved from granite. Glances through the glass doors revealed a party in full swing, with the bar already descended upon by a heavy throng of guests. A gorgeous golden chandelier dominated the huge expanse of the room; the high ceiling setting off the crystal lights to perfection. The invitation informed me that the establishment had been named after a 19th century cocktail bar in Manhattan, with Brisbane’s Little Jumbo striving to capture the bygone era of sophistication and class through its high standard of service and drinks quality.
There were three levels: the top suite with a comfortable bohemian feel with its lounging seats; the middle level holding low chocolate lounges, the surrounding gallery overlooking the magnificence of the chandelier, bar and ground floor. The chocolate colours were inviting and warm to the eye, encouraging a seductive and cheery ambience. Ladies in colourful cocktail dresses, hugging belts and beautiful shoes permeated the interior, their laugher a siren to the surrounding gentlemen in stylish shirts. The crowd was exceedingly well behaved as they waited in a huge line, not realising that an equally stocked drinks station in the top suite waited, virtually empty. Nevertheless, a great many beautifully concocted beverages left the bar, hands deftly carrying the colourful brews to their destination. Following such taste sensations as the Honolulu Honey (an overwhelming and easily consumable sensation of honey and subdued fruits), trays of delectable hors d’ouvres wafted past noses, emitting pleasant mouthwatering smells. The volume steadily crept up as the inhibitions of the suave crowd shook loose. Samples of Armani Diamonds were gifted to the guests by our hostess Lucy and the Bar Manager Ben. immediately, the vapor of the expensive perfumes were released into the air.
In a corner under the stairs, The Mr Men Collective held sway. DJ Mr Sparkle stood behind the decks, his hands deftly twirling at vinyl records and knobs while the electronic skins of Mr Dizzy rattled and resonated under his vivacious sticks. To his left, the Rhodes of Mr Pink vibrated under his fingers; the funky organic chords delightfully mingling with the banging electronic textures. Thick chordal harmonies overwhelmed the snapping cracks from the electronic snare and toms, as Mr Dizzy’s arms failed wildly while his sticks twirled in his hands. On the saxophone, the penetrating grooves of Mr Hands urged the crowd into a frenzy, the ladies especially enjoying the brassy sounds as they moved their bodies every which way in time to the wildly improvising beats and rhythms. The energy of the collective was transferred to the crowd as the atmosphere decidedly took on a celebratory feel.
Two gentlemen in tailored shirts and pin stripe trousers charmed the guests with their lilting Irish tones, one with the proverbial dark wavy hair, the other suavely hatted. As The Wizards of Oz , this laddy duo encouraged a friendly and hospitable ambience with their charming accents, entertaining interactive card tricks that elicited gasps of delight and cries of incredulity. Using an assortment of sleight of hand, the ambience reached a climatic point of fever pitch, the vivacious air of the band intertwined with mingled warm laughter and the clink of eternally passing glasses and dishes. The band came to a profound end, the ringing tones of the saxophone penetrating the full organ textures amidst the synthetic tones of the electronic percussion kit; the sampled beats from the turntable fusing each instrumental thread into a heady fabric of funk and dance.
As I left the vicinity with the strains of a still lively party surrounding George Street, I realised that memories really are captured moments in time – and for this time, many pleasant moments from this evening had been imprinted into my brain as a very satisfying affair. Such was my first encounter with Little Jumbo.
