I spent two nights here:
http://www.refineryhotelnewyork.com/
It is actually really comfortable - I had a great sleep - but it does fancy itself a bit.
The 12-story neo-gothic building has been designed and redefined as a place for communal engagement as well as solitary downtime, a personable and chic oasis. Our guests appreciate decadence and flair. They are unflashy in their sophistication. A night in with classic crème caramel and Dostoevsky (or maybe Lynda LaPlante) is standard.
In the days of Coco Chanel, Ernest Hemingway or Julia Childs, the Refinery Hotel would be their second home. Make the moment where you are.
I think Hemingway would have chucked some of the clientele off the roof.
My lovely Brooklyn chum was invited to a "looping" event today, "a chance for a community to participate in something g like a free for all adult playtime, wearing silly clothes or underwear in broad daylight on the streets of NYC".
haha, I got sent this link, because I know This guy. He came into the stags one night when I was working downstairs and struck up a conversation with Niall, another one of the barman who was off duty and propping up the bar. when we stumbled out of the bar at four or five, we went back to my apartment, and then to an early house.
His dad was the film commissioner of New York (I think) and was the producer of a number of Woody Allen Movies. He seemed nice enough, but rather childish in a number of ways. The article is fucking hilarious.
The NY Times wedding articles are their own special genre of ridiculous up-its-own-assness and it's a given that every single one of them would fit in this thread, but they all become the same after a while.
The Awesome Berbaslug!!! wrote: haha, I got sent this link, because I know This guy. He came into the stags one night when I was working downstairs and struck up a conversation with Niall, another one of the barman who was off duty and propping up the bar. when we stumbled out of the bar at four or five, we went back to my apartment, and then to an early house.
His dad was the film commissioner of New York (I think) and was the producer of a number of Woody Allen Movies. He seemed nice enough, but rather childish in a number of ways. The article is fucking hilarious.
Shit. The. Bed.
Love the way they've (over)emphasised that they really didn't need to use a dating site. Thank God they found each other.
caja-dglh wrote: Berbaslug is on the wedding section writing - a whole level worse than the garbage announcements which are pompous in their own right.
I was at a weddding earlier this year that was featured. The bride's father is a well known writer for the Times. It is the only time it would have felt stranger if there wasn't a NYT announcement.
MsD wrote: My lovely Brooklyn chum was invited to a "looping" event today, "a chance for a community to participate in something g like a free for all adult playtime, wearing silly clothes or underwear in broad daylight on the streets of NYC".
Please, please, God, let them try to gentrify (or is it 'pioneer') Bedford-Stuyvesant.
242 Gates Avenue in Bedford-Stuyvesant just sold for $3 million shattering the previous Bed-Stuy townhouse record of $2.25 million, Brownstoner reports. The two-family house was purchased by Eli Fernald of Ground Architecture & Building in 2007 for $749,000 and renovated
haha, I got sent this link, because I know This guy. He came into the stags one night when I was working downstairs and struck up a conversation with Niall, another one of the barman who was off duty and propping up the bar. when we stumbled out of the bar at four or five, we went back to my apartment, and then to an early house.
His dad was the film commissioner of New York (I think) and was the producer of a number of Woody Allen Movies. He seemed nice enough, but rather childish in a number of ways. The article is fucking hilarious.
Shit. The. Bed.
Love the way they've (over)emphasised that they really didn't need to use a dating site. Thank God they found each other.
What do we want?
Class war!
When do we want it?
Right now!
I’m a feminist. I’m a dude. And I hate that I love to grill.
By Jacob Brogan
I hate how much I love to grill. It’s not that I’m inclined to vegetarianism or that I otherwise object to the practice itself. But I’m uncomfortable with the pleasure I take in something so conventionally masculine. Looming over the coals, tongs in hand, I feel estranged from myself, recast in the role of suburban dad. At such moments, I get the sense that I’ve fallen into a societal trap, one that reaffirms gender roles I’ve spent years trying to undo. The whole business feels retrograde, a relic of some earlier, less inclusive era.
Comment