This city never has witnessed the excitement stirred by these youngsters from Liverpool who call themselves The Weekend.
Here’s everything you need for Valentine’s Day: 1) A secret, sexy suite in SoHo filled with a giant canvas, paint and post-art champagne; 2) a bouquet of roses grown on a South American volcano; and 3) a bottomless brunch with seven kinds of sangria. Oh, and maybe get a card or something...
Two things: one, Lincoln Center’s got an exhibit of old Beatles tickets and concert posters going on right now. Two, Morrison Hotel Gallery’s showing a bunch of rare photos of the Beatles’ first trip to America, which happened a half century ago. Just leave the Beatle wig at home.
You know those quintessential Canal Street stores with all the pegboard and the knockoffs. Well, Shipley & Halmos has made their own, with shot glasses, exclusive T-shirts, one-of-a-kind Vans, all their spring handsomeness and so on. If you see something labeled Shupley and Almos, you’re in the wrong stall.
You can now go to Kinfolk for all your Baldwin jean, Wings + Horns sweater and Sierra Designs jacket needs (which are shockingly many) at their new menswear shop. Because having a coffee shop, a bike manufacturer and an impeccable Scandinavian restaurant under one roof wasn’t enough already.
Quick, name the number one place you don’t want to be right now...
...
That’s right, street level (with apologies to our slush-fetishist readers). Thus, you’ll ascend to the
crisp air of the Top of the Standard for brunch. Foie-gras-and-truffle-relish burgers and gin-snap-pea
cocktails await. And rooftops cure everything.
On the one hand, fish tacos. But on the other hand: tasteful nudity. It’s so hard these days to choose between the two. So don’t. Make reservations for the nude-figure-drawing dinner at Fatta Cuckoo. How this didn’t exist before, we’ll never understand.
