It’s frankly bizarre that one person has done all of these things: Run a seminal club night before he could legally drink. Click here for key projects over the years. “Usually you hang with your tribe,” says Brian Rauschenbach, a longtime friend and, yes, frequent business partner. He’s our own version of Kevin Bacon, except you don’t need all six degrees. His contacts span chefs, airbrush artists, drum and bass DJs, barbers, clothing designers, nonprofits, ice cream makers, and basically anybody who’s ever done something creative in Seattle. “It’s always, ‘I have an idea which one of my friends can I work with?’” This approach might sound limited or provincial, but given the diversity of Lalario’s deep social circle, it weirdly has the opposite effect. “I’ve never done anything on my own,” he says. Every one of those businesses has been a collaboration with friends. He has opened restaurants and stores, and launched streetwear lines. Over the years, Seattle has reaped the benefits of Lalario’s endless network. Plenty of the people who visit his restaurants or wear his shirts wouldn’t recognize his name. The 46-year-old has an uncanny ability to get in the mix, whether it’s supporting Seattle’s enviable hip-hop scene in the 1990s or by landing a Lil Woody’s location in T-Mobile park (later this year it expands to Tokyo). It’s the logo of Lalario’s old record label and promotion company, Under the Needle. The black and gray color scheme matches his medallion, a custom rendering of the Seattle skyline, with diamonds studding the Space Needle. He got into nail art to keep from biting his nails. He has doleful brown eyes and classic features you might expect to find in a vintage photo of a World War II soldier-albeit one growing out a recent bleach job. Lalario greets the electricians and project manager with “what’s up, party people?” In a group that favors sensible construction-site shoes, he sports a special-issue Nike collaboration with the Japanese brand sacai (two soles, two sets of laces, even two swooshes). An in-house cafe will serve pasta, focaccia sandwiches, and drinks the retail side of the equation will include a magnificent wall of sneakers and an in-house clothing line. One that weaves together some major tenets of his unusual career: streetwear, Italian food, and an unerring sense of vibes. The Hometeam will be Lalario’s biggest project yet. Outside, chirping birds and the sound of construction form a soundtrack of choppy optimism. But on this spring morning, brown paper still covers the tall windows. It takes more than a single venue, no matter how culturally astute, to invigorate a neighborhood. If all goes well, Lalario will give the area a new kind of hub, not to mention a massive dose of cool. Now Lalario’s reopening this light-filled corner space as a combination cafe, clothing store and soon-to-be sneaker emporium called the Hometeam. The pandemic halted that upswing, an undeniable civic success story. This address spent 10 years as the London Plane-a cafe larder and florist that anchored Pioneer Square’s recovery a decade ago. It grants him access to a vintage brick building on Occidental Square, the prettiest block in Seattle’s oldest neighborhood. The newest key in Lalario’s collection is oversize and brass. Lalario, the onetime nightlife entrepreneur, had put his partying days behind him. “Just to remove the temptation.” But after the pandemic’s onset, his new director of operations at Lil Woody’s gave him a set of keys to each of his burger joint’s three standalone locations. “I would always end up at one of my bars after hours drinking.” Usually he’d hand them off to a general manager. Marcus Lalario never used to want keys to his businesses.
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