August 22 2014

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18 posts tagged "Beatrice Inn"

Soho House: Back on the Map?


The meatpacking district private club Soho House has been somewhat overshadowed of late by newer rivals like Norwood, not to mention a pair of “public” joints that can be harder to infiltrate than any membership list, the Waverly and Beatrice Inns. But is a comeback brewing? The French hipsters behind Purple magazine are hosting their fashion week dinner at Soho House tonight, and at brunch on Valentine’s Day, the dining room was emitting a low-key but palpable buzz. A pair of supermodels were sharing a big table with their husbands and kids, while a movie mogul in a rumpled white t-shirt breakfasted alone nearby. Maybe it’s time to renew that membership after all?

Blasblog: The French Are Coming (to the Bowery)!


You know, I was just thinking, now that Le Baron has set up a permanent outpost in Tokyo and done pop-ups in Miami during Art Basel, why hasn’t André Saraiva moved on to New York turf? Sure, he has his hooks in the hipster crowd with Beatrice Inn, but surely the cool kids—with their top hats and skinny jeans and messy hair—would be up for some more Le Baron fun during the New York collections. Well, wouldn’t you know it, Le Baron’s master of ceremonies is bringing three nights of hedonism to our fair city, courtesy of the Bowery Hotel, Le Baron, and Purple magazine’s Olivier Zahm. Last night was the temporary club’s debut, and its Parisian counterpart’s trademark fluorescent lights lit up Paul Sevigny’s DJ booth. (Friday night’s mixer is Mark Ronson, while James Murphy and his crew take over on Saturday.) When pressed for more details via e-mail, André responded that the party’s goal was to “[inject] New York nightlife with the spirit of Paris and the crystal-clear promise of vodka.” Not a bad ambition, that.



Photo: Eugene Mim /


Blasblog: Meet The (Up The) River Boys


Few people know the etymology of expressions they regularly bandy about. I often ask stutterers if a cat has gotten their tongue, with scarcely a clue as to whether it originated in medieval folk believing that a witch’s cat could indeed steal your tongue or Middle Easterners of yore legendarily feeding the tongues of liars to cats. (Both make equally charming fun facts to bring up over cocktails.) But Andrew Simkiss and Matt Creed, the young filmmakers behind, know exactly what they’re talking about. “Being sent up the river was common slang for going to prison when New York City prisoners would be sent up the Hudson to [Sing Sing],” explains Simkiss, a recent NYU film school grad. “The sound of the phrase just felt right for the site.” Incarceration references aside, the scripted and improvisational video shorts that the duo post are far from contained. “Sites like these are a good vehicle for getting work out to a lot of people, without having to go through festivals and distribution,” explains Creed, who graduated last year from The New School, his fifth university in six years. (For the latter four years, he focused on painting and acting.) The resulting celluloid works are a mix between short, art-house style pieces—like one that centers on the goofy, dazed wonder that a young adult could have with a simple toy—to slightly longer narrative pieces, like one reflecting on the very important metropolitan journey to a gallery opening. In theory, it’s all leading to something bigger: a feature film. There is one already in the works, set to take place on a farm during the Depression, that’s written and directed by Simkiss. The pair hopes to start filming in April. Until then, though, it’s work as usual, which, for Creed, in case you thought he looked familiar, means he’ll have to stick behind the DJ decks. “[Spinning[ has been like my day job, but at night,” explained Creed, a Beatrice Inn regular. “Hopefully, though, acting and making films will starting paying the rent.”



Photo: Courtesy of Up The River


A Love Story, Starring Carla and Sarko


Our previous, um, exposure to France’s first lady has proved that she’s no wallflower. So it’s not much of a surprise to learn Carla Bruni-Sarkozy green- lighted a documentary following her courtship with the French president while he was still married. Only in France, kids, which, sadly, is the only place this little gem will be showing (for now).

If your look can be described as “American-Apparel-by-way- of-Bergdorf,” perhaps Chloe 81, the next pretender to the Beatrice Inn’s dark and smoky throne, should be your New Year’s Eve destination. Hurry, before Sean Avery claims a VIP section.

Remember yesterday’s nifty Bill Blass study guide? Well, today’s news of the company’s $10 million sale is all the more reason to study up, particularly since the new owners may be aiming for a runway revival.

Party attendees for 2008 by the numbers: Eva Mendes , the Gossip Girl cast, and Peaches Geldof (that loveable Brit) all perfected the pose-and-get-paid stance required of celebs. Congratulations to all. It ain’t easy being ubiquitous.

Blasblog From Miami: Pardon The Error, But Le Baron Is Basel’s Beatrice Inn


Earlier I erroneously suggested that the Raleigh hotel’s backyard was the Beatrice Inn of this year’s Art Basel Miami. I am now reporting that as an error. (My bad.) Sure, the Oasis, as the André Balazs-owned hotel calls its sandy post-pool area, is a hot spot: Visionaire‘s party last night was just as good as Deitch Projects’ fête the night before, if not better. But when it comes to the bawdy, smoky hedonism that the Beatrice prides itself on, it’s not about the open area and iconic pool. Nah, to get all of the above we’d have to go to the pop-up Le Baron nightclub in the Delano Hotel. (This kind of makes sense, since Beatrice and Le Baron are related in that same-club-owner kind of way.) Thursday night was the most fun, sweatiest dance party yet. Somehow, through the haze, I made it to the hippest Art Basel table. From left to right, I ID’ed artist Hanna Liden and her DJ ladyfriend Rachel Chandler; artist Nate Lowman and his ladyfriend Mary-Kate Olsen (seen here with Ryan McGinley earlier in the evening); then Aaron Young, Neville Wakefield, and Interview‘s Christopher Bollen. Dancing in front of them—to the weirdest mash-up of music I’ve ever heard, spanning techno, Ting Tings, Beyoncé, and Frank Sinatra—was Fabiola Beracasa, Katie Lee Joel, and Nylon‘s Dani Stahl. (I’m sure there were people elsewhere in the club, but once you get a seat at a place like this, you don’t give it up!) At one point Pharrell, who is making cameos at nearly every party in town and hosting a dinner with Parisian retail outlet Colette tomorrow night, came over to have a chat with Ms. Olsen. It might have had something to do with a mutual respect of Murakami, but I couldn’t hear. I think that’s when Sinatra’s “New York, New York” was blaring.

Photo: Patrick McMullan/