Out there, it’s miserable.

Your least favorite vortex is back.

Which means untold inches of unwanted frozen watery discharge between now and tomorrow morning.

What you need: somewhere warm. Somewhere beachy. Somewhere French.

What you’re getting: the next best thing...

You’re getting Chicane, a sexy new dinner spot aiming to be your French Riviera in Nolita, now open.

Cannes. Nice. Monaco. Regardless of what you may or may not know about these places (film festivals, art and grand prix, we’d guess), it’s clear you’d rather be at any one of them right now. This place is making that happen, sort of, through the magic of tartine, Côtes de Provence and a ceiling that resembles a pool deck. Close your eyes and you can almost smell the suntan lotion. (Not really.)

Bring someone who could appreciate a gin-raspberry-liqueur-lemon-juice-strawberry-puree-basil-egg-white number called La Provençal. Then on to the orange leather booths for dinner. Be dashing—if you play your cards right, you may be escorted downstairs, through the kitchen and into a subterranean cocktail lounge complete with little light, nooks aplenty and walls adorned with photo-realistic nude swimmers.

You win again, France.