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This is part of a collection of stories celebrating lesbian bars across the US and other parts of the world. Read more here.
It’s nearly 8 p.m., and a mix of regulars and newcomers, friends and strangers spill onto the sidewalk and into the parking lot in front of The Ruby Fruit. The music is turned up just enough to feel like a party, and the small room is packed—the crowd squeezed around the bar and shared counter, glasses of orange wine, nonalcoholic drinks, fried gigante beans, and bottles of Miller Low Life between them. This energetic shift from happy hour to evening happens, without fail, six days a week at The Ruby Fruit (they’re closed on Sundays). All day long, in fact, the space flows seamlessly from morning coffee and coworking through lunch and dinner to this fever pitch that lasts until the end of the night—which, for The Ruby Fruit at least, is 10 p.m. on weeknights; 11 p.m. on weekends.
It’s a mutable energy unique to The Ruby Fruit, says Jacqueline Toboni, a Los Angeles-based actor and regular who often takes work meetings there during the day. “You can show up as you are. Not just in terms of identity but you see people having a hot dog and a glass of wine at the bar by themselves and ending up talking to people and then you see a couple with their kid,” she says. “And you can meet people in terms of a singles party vibe a little bit later on. I don’t think there’s a space like it.”
Indeed, when The Ruby Fruit opened in a strip mall on Silverlake’s Sunset Boulevard in February of last year, it was the first permanent lesbian bar to have opened in LA since 2017—and the only in the city at that time. (West Hollywood’s The Palms shuttered in 2013 and The Oxwood Inn in the San Fernando Valley closed in 2017; then, the same month that The Ruby Fruit opened, LA got its second lesbian-owned bar, Honey’s at Star Love.)
The Ruby Fruit’s name is in direct homage to Rita Mae Brown’s 1973 coming-of-age lesbian novel The Rubyfruit Jungle and co-owners Emily Bielagus and Mara Herbkersman describe the now little-over-a-year old space as “a restaurant and wine bar for the sapphically-inclined.” From the onset, they focused on creating a safe space for not only lesbians but nonbinary, gender-nonconforming, and trans people, as well as those who are still sorting it out. “There’s a positive spin on our inclusivity policy,” Bielagus says. “We’re inviting people in, not excluding people. We want people to say ‘oh, that’s me, that’s me, that’s me.’”
“Personally, for me it’s important to give people the opportunity to self-determine,” says Herbkersman. “It took me a long time to come out and The Ruby Fruit is unequivocally for people who are questioning or unsure yet of their place. I think part of the new generation of spaces is the fact that they are more inclusive.”
My own first visit was a quick pre-dinner pop-in—though the intimacy, warmth, and undeniable depth of community in the space (not to mention a spot-on pairing of sparkling natural wine, mortadella, and olives marinated with fennel pollen) immediately had me second guessing my evening plans. Now, I make it a point to stop in whenever I come through Los Angeles—and stay for the entire night.
Because local or visiting, familiar face or new, The Ruby Fruit’s warm, open hospitality extends to everyone who steps foot into the small, colorful space. The atmosphere—with a smattering of cheeky, butt-shaped flower pots, a sign on the bathroom door that reads NO TERFs, and the warmth and attention of the staff—all serve to bring The Ruby Fruit’s ethos to life.“I never go in and don’t see an owner,” Toboni says. “The vibe is really welcoming.”
When Carmella Martinique Bonadio moved from Washington, DC, to Los Angeles last summer, she messaged The Ruby Fruit on Instagram about an event she was interested in joining. She ended up not being able to make it that night—but when she walked in nearly three weeks later, she was immediately recognized, called by name, and poured a welcome drink. “Now I live right down the street and I go there all the time,” Martinique Bonadio says. Her go-to: a glass of sparkling rosé and the popcorn chicken basket (made with sansho pepper, served with fries, and which can also be made vegan).
“We try to talk to everyone,” Herbkersman says. “The Ruby Fruit is so small that you actually can do that.” At less than 500 very intimate square feet, the design focuses on using every inch: shared terrazzo counters and narrow ledges tucked into corners, stools that stack and can be used for sitting or as a table—paired with an accommodating crowd that is happy to spill outside when the space hits capacity.
It's the combination of the sense of community—as well as the many events at The Ruby Fruit—that brings Martinique Bonadio back again and again. “A friend of mine hosts an event through the Ruby Fruit every Tuesday called TRANScendent Tuesdays and it’s a gender-expansive sort of mixer,” she says. “Mara and Emily making that effort has been monumental to the inclusivity of transgender sapphic identifying people.” In addition to TRANScendent Tuesdays, which is hosted by Sinistra Black, Martinique Bonadio often also stops by for Queereoke, hosted by Chynna Mac, or Verse4Verse Poetry, a queer open mic led by Karla Lamb.
The wide range of events allows The Ruby Fruit to reach a wider audience. “After we opened The Ruby Fruit, we quickly learned that we had to function as not just a restaurant but a community space,” Herbkersman says. “The queer community is full of diversity and nuance. We want to create a little bit of space for everyone to feel at home.”
If you’re from out of town, The Ruby Fruit is an ideal first stop, either for the night or straight from the airport. “It’s been amazing to witness so many people coming in and being like, This was my literal first stop from LAX,” Bielagus says.
Adds Herbkersman, “When we opened, we didn’t quite understand that the appeal for this was going to reach beyond our community.”
That reach and the collective joy found day after day at The Ruby Fruit is palpable whether you come in with your computer in the morning or solo at night; whether you’re behind or in front of the bar. “At this point, this is my life’s work and definitely my greatest accomplishment of my life,” says Herbkersman.
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