The weekend promises to rule benevolently.
You remember Spain. There were two women. One was a model. The other, a photographer. There was wine. Tapas were nibbled. But the negatives were destroyed. This opening party for an exhibit of photographs of women by Spanish women recaptures the mood. Only, not in Spain.
Sometimes it feels like you, a tiger and 100 girls in saris against the world. This is one of those nights, when the Museum of Contemporary Art is filled with Bollywood dancers, henna tattoo artists and absinthe samples, and you can get your forehead bejeweled. But it’s strictly BYOT.
Ah, Friday night. The loosened ties. The quiet satisfaction of conquering another week. The short-rib ravioli... You handle the first two, and leave the third to this snug enoteca freshly opened in North Center. It’s BYOB for now, so we guess you’ve just been tasked with wine, too.
We’re not your mom or anything, but... we’re just going to say it: child, you’re too skinny. You need a brunch that will put some meat on those bones. Waffles, syrup, fried chicken, that sort of thing. Also, a side of live gospel music. So, like a church that lets you bring vodka for its Bloody Mary mix.
Maybe you thought drive-in season had finished. It’s not summer anymore... or 1957, for that matter. But here’s an evening of a plein air cinema—a double feature of the Coen Brothers’ The Big Lebowski and Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye. Bring a date, a blanket and something convertible.
