After DUI, she quit drinking and opened a bar
IT started with a Jack and Coke at a pub in Silver Spring, Maryland, and ended with a police officer pulling over Vergie “Gigi” Arandid minutes from her home. She blew a 00.21 per cent on the breathalyzer. More than two times the legal limit.
She totalled the car she was driving but didn’t remember how it happened. A witness said she side swept a row of parked cars.
A er her DUI, she was required to a end Alcoholics Anonymous, a 12-step program for abstinencebased recovery. But she knew that wasn’t going to be enough to ensure her sobriety.
At the root of Arandid’s drinking had always been a desire for human connection. Instead of avoiding bars and clubs, like many in recovery, she thrust herself in the middle of it. She continued to crave the community with others, amid the loud music and dancing.
So for Arandid, 38, there was a 13th step to her 12-step recovery process. It was creating a place for people like herself - a bar with all the warmth and friendship and energy, minus the alcohol.
Arandid’s venue opened in February 2023 nestled on DC’s H street corridor.
She decided to name it “Binge Bar.”
The no- and low-alcohol movement (dubbed “NoLo,” by some) is growing. Research from IWSR Drinks Market Analysis found consumption of such drinks reached US$11 billion in 2022 and is projected to increase a third by 2026.
The sales of no- and lowalcohol products remain a fraction of the lucrative alcohol industry, but it reflects generational shi s underway. One report, found the Gen Z population drinks 20 percent less per capita than millennials, who in turn drink less than Gen X and baby boomers. Younger people also have wider knowledge of alcohol-related health risks. And studies suggest this isn’t a fad, young Americans age 18 to 34 are drinking less, according to a Gallup poll.
Across the country, nonalcoholic drinks have popped up on menus at restaurants, stadiums and flights. An infusion of investment capital is fueling the rising industry. Even celebrities have jumped on the train and backed nonalcoholic brands.
Amid the rise of such zeroproof bars, Arandid decided she’d try to create one in DC.
Trying to fit in
In 2002, at age 17, Arandid moved from the Philippines to Washington and enrolled in the English as a Second Language program at a local high school. At her ESL classmates’ parties, the drink of choice was usually beer or vodka. To fit in, she drank with them.
“It was a way of having fun and hanging out,” Arandid said. “I didn’t realize at the time that it was pre y much a gateway to a bigger problem . . . because I didn’t have limits.”
A er high school, she began working at a clothing store called Up Against the Wall, described by The Washington Post in 2004 as a “trendse ing boutique” with brands like Baby Phat, Juicy Couture and Rocawear.
In retail she learned skills she’d later rely on to become an entrepreneur. It was also where she met one of her best friends, Starr Hawkins, who started drinking even earlier. At age 13 in her friend’s house, Hawkins made “liquor smoothies” because she said there was li le else to do growing up in rural North Carolina.
“I loved working with her. I loved her style,” said Hawkins, who was 20 years old when she started working with Arandid.
“I would see this girl, super skinny, super tan in her juicy couture velour sweatsuits, and I’m just like, ‘man, she’s so pre y,’” said Arandid, who was 23 at the time.
Arandid and Hawkins spent long hours working at the retail store and even later nights partying a erward with the store crew.
When Hawkins gave birth in January 2010, she and her daughter’s father decided to name her Gianna, in part a er new best friend “Gigi.”
In October that same year, Up Against the Wall announced it was closing its stores.
Hawkins moved to Sarasota, Fl., and a year later Arandid followed. They lived together and continued working in retail and partying. This time, with a baby in the picture.
“Our addiction made us not responsible friends,” Hawkins said.
One night the two returned home drunk and got into an argument that ended with Arandid packing her bags and moving back to D.C.
“I said some mean things about how she should raise Gianna, and I know that I shouldn’t have,” said Arandid, who is Gianna’s godmother.
It was a er their breakup as friends that Hawkins began a ending AA meetings to get sober.
Making Amends
On the night of her DUI in 2016, Arandid said the police told her that the breathalyzer results were equivalent to drinking 10 Jack and Cokes. No one was hurt in the crash. Arandid was the only one in the car she totaled, but it didn’t belong to her. It belonged to her sister.
“She worked so hard for that car,” said Arandid, tearing up as she recalled the disappointment on her sister’s face and realizing she could have hurt someone.
It was the wake-up call she needed.
What led to Arandid drinking that night was a voice mail from an ex-boyfriend. Hearing his voice reopened wounds, and alcohol was her Band-Aid.
While Arandid and Hawkins no longer talked, they still followed each other on social media. Arandid watched as her friend got sober. It motivated her to do the same.
Arandid thought she’d never hear from Hawkins again. But then Hawkins reached the 9th step of AA: making amends.
“Our friendship wouldn’t exist without sobriety,” said Hawkins, now 35, and working as a Pilates instructor in Miami.
They supported each other’s sobriety and became entrepreneurs, creating spaces for others to join.
For Hawkins, that has been fitness. In Miami, her clients have included Victoria’s Secret models, professional athletes and media personalities.
“Fitness is my church,” she said. “It’s like my AA.”
In 2023, Hawkins and Arandid teamed up to host sober fitness events, including one at a spa, Balian Springs, in Alexandria, Va. The event started with a workout led by Hawkins and ended with nonalcoholic cocktails created by Arandid.
The 38-year-old Filipina said the partnership with Hawkins for these events felt as intense and fulfilling as their early days in retail - this time without the fog of binge drinking.
Bingeing on life
“Come as you are” is Binge Bar’s tagline.
Whether their patrons are pregnant, abstaining from alcohol for religious reasons or sober, Arandid and her small team try to have something for everyone. Her zero-proof bar is stocked with fruits, veggies, botanicals and distilled nonalcoholic spirits.
“We love to get personal, and we want to make sure that what you’re drinking is essentially an extension of who you are,” Arandid said.
But she knew from the start it would take creativity to make Binge financially sustainable as a nonalcoholic bar. Among her strategies so far: Hosting events, partnering with brands and local businesses, adding food to the menu and experimenting with flavors for her expanding drink list.
She offers dry spinoffs of popular drinks, like espresso martinis, and also caters to those who don’t want to consume anything mimicking the taste of alcohol. One of her most popular drinks doesn’t include nonalcoholic spirits. She calls it the Cucumber Mangorita, a concoction composed of fresh juices. (What gives the drink its “pizazz,” Arandid confided, is tonic water and citrus.)
Many of her patrons so far have been Gen Z customers, who learned about the bar on TikTok.
One patron, Jasmine Rogers, got sober in June 2022 a er becoming a mom. She felt depressed and unproductive, consuming multiple drinks a er work to relax.
“Having a space like Binge Bar where I can just be social and spend quality time without the presence of alcohol is special,” said Rogers, 33, who heard of Binge on Instagram. For her, one of the best things about qui ing alcohol was seeing who still wanted to be her friend when she was no longer the fun “drunk party girl.”
February will mark one year since Binge Bar opened. In that time, the bar has hosted comedy shows, speed dating, a Christian trap listening party, a burlesque show, drag bingo, bachelore e parties and a nonalcoholic cocktail making class.
Though a former binge drinker, Arandid said that wasn’t the inspiration for the bar’s name. The idea came from bingeing on Netflix, something she turned to early in her sobriety as an escape. She was inspired by shows like “Mad Men.” Bingeing on Netflix transformed to “bingeing on my own personal experience, mind, body and soul,” she said.
Many of the friends from Hawkins and Arandid’s drinking days have since disappeared.
“Once you stop partying, then you really find out who your friends are,” said Hawkins. But she said she understands how alcohol o en makes people feel like they’re a part of something larger, how a drink provides an easy bridge to a complete stranger. That’s why, she’s been so proud of her friend and her new bar. “We need to have mocktails for people that want to be a part of the party.”
As for Arandid, she believes Binge Bar and the nonalcoholic movement at large is only going to grow. “It’s not a trend,” she said. “It’s here to stay.” — The Washington Post