The weekend is being adapted for Broadway.
Your Perks: 1) 20% off a USB-powered device that turns any flat surface into a touchpad mouse. (Yes, including your desk.) 2) Aerodynamic umbrellas that can withstand gale-force winds. 3) A wearable camera that uses sensors to take the perfect shot. It’s the third eye you didn’t know you wanted.
Sometimes people just make it real easy for you. Like, the Ohgane people open a Korean-Japanese spot called Copan, there’s a Momofuku Ssam Bar alum in the kitchen, and they serve beef tartare with Asian pear. What are you going to do, not go try it?
Where you’re going on Friday night: can’t tell you that. What you’ll see: can’t tell you that, either. Great. Well, that’s done. But okay, you’re wandering around a secret location called the Speakeasy, and you’re surrounded by actors who seem to think it’s 1923. Unless you do something else instead.
You may or may not be interested in fashion, and you may or may not be interested in models (hey, you never know), but you’re likely interested in a runway show involving clothes that... happen to be on fire. That is not a metaphor. The clothes are on fire.
The problem with most gyms is, there’s no surfing. And no classes called “Apocalypse Training.” Most gyms, in short, are not Sweat Republic, which just opened on Greenwich with a roomful of souped-up surfboards and a, shall we say, unusual curriculum. Okay. Yes, we shall say that.
Bastille had a problem. They had all these beautiful clothes from Band of Outsiders, Gitman Vintage and Deus ex Machina for 60% off. Someone apparently informed them that was ridiculous. So as of today, it’s all 70% off. There. Much more civilized.
