Luigi's: The Cafe That Raised Generations of Students

After decades as the beating heart of Brussels student life, the iconic Luigi's has closed its doors for good. In a candid conversation, owners Marc and Monique reflect on their student years, the glory days of their café, the challenges of changing times, and their plans for the future. It's a story of friendship, legendary parties, and the inevitable evolution of a generation.

From student to local pub legend

Marc began his years at the VUB as a Physical Education and Movement and Sports Sciences student. Studying wasn't always easy—a few extra years, working in between to cover everything, and above all: an irresistible urge for the vibrant student life. His DJ sets and part-time jobs made him a popular fixture in Brussels' nightlife early on. Ultimately, he decided not to finish his studies: "I'd been thinking about being self-employed for too long."

After his military service, he re-entered the student world. First as a bartender and DJ at café de Phare, later as owner. In 1990, he took the plunge: he took over the Phare and gave it a new lease on life. Luigi's was born – named after his own DJ alter ego and a student tradition of pulling underwear over the head. A name that immediately captured the imagination and quickly became the hallmark of a legendary café. Marc was even the first to do an "auto-Luigi" – pulling his own underwear over his head – to avoid a painful penalty. It typified the playful, self-deprecating spirit that would later define Luigi's as a café: a place where laughter, partying, and camaraderie always prevailed.

Love, accounting and a new adventure

Monique grew up in Ostend in an entrepreneurial family. She wasn't allowed to study at home, but she was allowed to work in her parents' business. But she didn't give up on the dream and took evening classes in accounting and management. In 1989, she met Marc through a mutual friend who was president of KEPS. At the time, Marc was working at Phare, and they hit it off.

Not long after, Monique decided to leave everything behind in Ostend and move to Brussels. When their son Tim was born, she traded her work at the family business for a life behind the bar. It became a partnership in every sense of the word: Marc who dominated the evenings and Monique who controlled the days. Together, they formed the beating heart of Luigi's.

The golden years: always too small, always too full

Things took off in 1992. Luigi's opened in a renovated restaurant, and from day one, it was deemed "too small" and "overcrowded." Students from all backgrounds flocked to the traditional café, which immediately became synonymous with conviviality, tradition, and endless nights.

During the day, students could go there for spaghetti, lasagna, and sandwiches, but especially at night, the Big Tim and Jolan burgers (named after their two sons), which were bicky burgers, were legendary. It was simple food, but that's precisely what made it irresistible. "After St. Vé, there was a line out the door for our burgers," Marc recalls.

What most typified the golden years was the natural culture of meeting up. There were no cell phones, no WhatsApp groups. Meeting up was done in class, and if you didn't know where to go, you simply went to Luigi's – the place where you were sure to meet everyone.

Second parents behind the bar

For countless students, Marc and Monique were more than just bar owners: they were confidants, advisors, and sometimes even a kind of second parent. Monique was often approached by students struggling with heartbreak or exam stress. Marc served more as a strict but warm father figure, someone who simultaneously poured beers and imparted life lessons.

That role didn't go unnoticed. Many names who later achieved national fame also passed by the bar at Luigi's. Politicians like Alexander De Croo and Pablo Annys, sports journalist Karl Vannieuwkerke, and other well-known alumni—Marc and Monique discreetly keep their secrets—would hang out there drinking pints. For them, Marc and Monique weren't "the future celebrities," but just students like any other. This made Luigi's even more unique: everyone, regardless of background or future, was simply a student there.

"It was incredible how much fun it was when the children of the first generation of Luigi's patrons later also sat at our bar," says Monique. The bond extended beyond the bar. She still keeps in touch with former students; some are now her regular hiking buddies. Luigi's was more than just a café – it was a second home where students could be themselves.

Drinking records and student legends

Luigi's was also the birthplace of countless student traditions. Marc himself was deeply involved in student life from a young age – twice serving as a baptism master and vice-president of Hilo, and president of Hageland. He brought that energy and traditions directly to his café.

The Higher-Lower World Championship has been the annual highlight since 2008.

Students and alumni competed against each other with dice and beer in hand. Marc himself proved to be a formidable player: he was crowned champion four times, once even with his two sons. In 2016, they won a legendary semifinal 11-9, after which the final was "a walk in the park." The atmosphere was always electric: tension, ecstatic joy among the winners, and tears of disappointment among the losers.

But Luigi's record-breaking tradition goes back much further. The infamous Barrel Battle was a drinking contest par excellence: fourteen men at the bar, two behind the taps, and a 30-liter keg that had to be emptied as quickly as possible. The record still stands, held by a Hilo crew that finished it in a blistering 9.5 minutes . So driven were they that they immediately wanted to empty the won keg again.

The absolute highlight, however, was the 2004 world record relay attempt: 1,000 pints in under an hour. Around 200 students were carefully selected – only those who could down a pint in under four seconds were allowed to participate. After months of training, the goal was achieved: 1,000 pints in 58 minutes and 14 seconds . A bailiff was present, but Guinness refused recognition due to alcohol restrictions in their rules. Nevertheless, it remained a monumental feat for the VUB students, proof that their solidarity was stronger than that of Ghent or Leuven, who never managed to break the record.

The walls of Luigi's told the story. Above the bar hung record plaques: from Jolan's meter record of 11 long drinks in 1 minute 27 seconds to the women's record of 33 seconds for the one-meter beer relay. They were silent witnesses to evenings where boundaries were pushed and friendships forged.

From Pint to Pixel: How Time Changed

The advent of mobile phones and later Facebook created a rift. Meetings became digital, and cafes became less and less crowded. And when the coronavirus pandemic hit, student life changed radically.

Marc saw the culture shift: "The new generation is no longer trained in traditional student life. They drink in their student rooms first, arrive late, and there's less engagement." For someone who had been immersed in that life for decades, this was a painful realization. Luigi's became a reflection of how student life and society were evolving.

Their message to students remains the same: "Get out of your room, close your laptop, and go to a cafe. That's where the real stories are born."

The difficult farewell

Despite a contract running until 2028, the decision was inevitable: Luigi's closed its doors. Financial pressure, changing nightlife habits, and the devastating impact of the coronavirus pandemic made continuation impossible. Crowdfunding provided some breathing room, but ultimately, closing was the only option.

The closing parties, on the other hand, were a celebration of recognition: alumni reconnected, stories were shared, and it felt like the old days once again. A fitting finale to an era.

A well-deserved retirement

Today, Marc and Monique are enjoying their freedom. Skiing, traveling, spending time together—finally without a bar. Yet, their ties to the VUB remain strong: Marc will still be behind the bar at the OSB-VUB Gala Ball and will be present at initiations and St. Vé. Monique will also be present for the first time in a long time now that she's not having to roll meatballs.

And now what about the place?

Luigi's is being repurposed as a gaming café, run by a French-speaking owner. It will no longer be a student café. With the Tent also disappearing, Marc and Monique wonder where students will gather in the future for baptisms, celebrations, and traditions.

An era ended, but never forgotten

Luigi's was never just a café. It was a symbol, a meeting place, and a source of education alongside the lecture halls. For thousands of students, it was a place of friendship, outlet, and tradition. With its closure, a chapter ends, but the stories and memories will live on—just like Marc and Monique, who still encounter "their" students everywhere.