Nothing quenches thirst like an ice-cold weekend.
Your Perks: 1) A canvas Banksy print. Maybe you’ve heard of him? Makes infamous street art/holiday gifts. 2) A slew of vintage Rolex and Cartier watches. Like, basically all of them. 3) The perfect Christmas tree. Picked out for you, set up for you and cleaned up for you.
There is a roof in the West Village. And on that roof is a Christmas tree. And on that Christmas tree there will be lights tonight. And looking at those lights will be you. Oh, and also on the roof will be spiked hot chocolate. That’s roofs for you.
The Ovadias must really hate what they made this year. We disagree. Still, they’re basically giving it away in SoHo. Meanwhile, in Chelsea, the likes of Peter Nappi (boot gods), Stutterheim (Scandinavian jacketry) and Golden Goose (Italian covetables) are actually selling stuff at a Capsule event for once. Giving, schmiving.
Should you be in a brunchly mood this weekend, know that Birds & Bubbles is now all aboard that train to the tune of eggnog french toast, chicken fried in waffle batter and maybe a side of heirloom grits. Yep, they’re calling grits that now, too.
Here’s a great idea: take members of Antony and the Johnsons, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Interpol and other excellent bands, and mix them up. Give them a few hours to write a set list’s worth of songs. Have them perform those songs for you. Ah—that’s what this is.
In the West Village: The Bourgeois Pig is packing up the EV spot and heading to MacDougal. S’mores fondue, champagne cocktails and general decadent Frenchness will also be joining.
