Open a can of weekend.
Your Perks: 1) On November 6, an evening of rare whiskey and live jazz in Hudson’s candelabra-adorned lounge. 2) An exclusive box of the world’s most exquisite spirits, delivered monthly. 3) 33% off the Celluon Epic—a tiny Bluetooth keyboard made of frickin’ lasers. You can’t not get this.
Halloween is a marathon, not a sprint. And in that spirit (so to speak), you’ve got two more nights of it at No. 8. They’re planning a freak show haunted house of salacious dancing. Which you were just talking about wanting.
The Randolph is in Williamsburg now. In an ironic twist, they skipped the warm, rustic vibe of the laid-back coffee-and-cocktails Manhattan original and went for a ’70s punk diner vibe: red vinyl booths, a wall sculpture of televisions. They kept the coffee and cocktails, though.
Journal Standard: a hard-to-find brand of Japanese nattiness. They’ve got a pop-up at Hickoree’s. Here’s what you might obtain there: 1. A three-piece, slim-fit camouflage-print suit. 2. A raw-denim, blanket-lined flight jacket. 3. The satisfying jealousy of the less handsome around you.
Lobster benedict. A dry-aged burger with tomato confit. Late-morning Navy Grogs. Either we’re just listing desirable consumable things for no reason, or we’re telling you what to expect at brunch at the Elm this Sunday. It’s anyone’s guess.
On Mondays at the Monarch, you can do anything you want. Well, so long as what you want is to drink martinis and listen to live jazz in a wooded living room high above Midtown. Which... still works out nicely.
