The running of the models commences now.
You may call it Fashion Week.
And hey, we’ve found one of its hubs of activity.
In a shocking turn of events, there’s veal...
Look upon Trattoria Il Mulino, the sexy, spacious younger sibling of the power Italian food mecca, opening tomorrow in Gramercy.
The Il Mulinos. You know them. They’re where the Bill Clintons and signor Clooneys of the realm get their pasta and osso buco, and photos taken. This—this is a slightly less... motorcade-required version. Somewhere to grab a wood-fired soppressata-and-sausage pizza and coffee cocktails after a long day of the stuff you do all day.
Step inside: if you guessed a steampunk/Fashion Week vibe, nailed it. There’s a plumbing pipe light sculpture up front (veal-piccata-mascarpone-ravioli-and-bottle-of-sangiovese-date country) and a full-wall WPA/industrial fantasy mural in back (multiparty power-dining territory).
And in between: the bar, a stainless-steel span where you’ll unwind with conspicuously Italian-leaning cocktails (Galliano, Averna and the words “Vintage Testarossa” all make appearances) and oysters while casually observing Nature’s runway show.
It works. It really works.
You may call it Fashion Week.
And hey, we’ve found one of its hubs of activity.
In a shocking turn of events, there’s veal...
Look upon Trattoria Il Mulino, the sexy, spacious younger sibling of the power Italian food mecca, opening tomorrow in Gramercy.
The Il Mulinos. You know them. They’re where the Bill Clintons and signor Clooneys of the realm get their pasta and osso buco, and photos taken. This—this is a slightly less... motorcade-required version. Somewhere to grab a wood-fired soppressata-and-sausage pizza and coffee cocktails after a long day of the stuff you do all day.
Step inside: if you guessed a steampunk/Fashion Week vibe, nailed it. There’s a plumbing pipe light sculpture up front (veal-piccata-mascarpone-ravioli-and-bottle-of-sangiovese-date country) and a full-wall WPA/industrial fantasy mural in back (multiparty power-dining territory).
And in between: the bar, a stainless-steel span where you’ll unwind with conspicuously Italian-leaning cocktails (Galliano, Averna and the words “Vintage Testarossa” all make appearances) and oysters while casually observing Nature’s runway show.
It works. It really works.
