So it was just another Saturday night. The kind that involves shattered martini glasses, talking rhinoceros heads, and frolicking about in various states of costume.
Marianne and I would rendezvous later at (I can’t believe I have to admit this) Jekyll & Hyde to celebrate the birthday of mutual friend Leanna Renee Hieber (or as I dubbed her a couple of drinks later, The Goth Princess).
Leanna, Goth Princess. Yeah, it’s my birthday. That a problem for you?
While Marianne was up North getting her pre-goth goth on, I traveled South to meet up with Megan Frampton for a cocktail before the party. We settled on The Blue Owl for no particular reason, and it turned out that all the drinks were named after bookish authors and characters.
I’m a sucker for an oddly named cocktail. I’m briefly reminded that I once ordered a drink called The Billionaire and the server freaked out saying that I was only the second woman to ever order the drink under her watch. I’m still not sure what that means, but I do recall thinking it was a perfect sort of aspirational choice. But, I digress.
At The Blue Owl, I ordered a Moneypenny. You can sort of see the other choices in the photo. (Let’s not discuss the odd shadowy protrusion in the snap.)
It was a brilliant citrus-centric drink which I followed with an even more brilliant drink that had an incredibly pretentious foreign name that translated roughly to I Will Drink This Substance And We Will Make Sweet Love Into The Night. All I know was that it had a fabulous ginger infusion and it knocked me sideways at which point I knocked it sideways and there we have the shattered martini glass I promised you.
Neither one of us wanted to leave The Blue Owl or its deeelightful bartender–he who was making us free ginger drinks–but a birthday is a birthday. Off Megan and I went to J&H.
Marianne has described Jekyll & Hyde’s over on her blog as a kind of goth Chuck E. Cheese, a concept that disturbs me greatly until I’m reminded that I really love The Bee Gees, and I have no right to judge anybody else’s taste in popular entertainment.
I shall simply share with you a few choice snaps of the decor.
And I guess you figured out that’s where the talking rhinoceros head comes in.
So after we’d wined and dined, we hit the pavement and headed to The Pyramid Club. Hardcore gothers Leanna and Marianne disappeared into what was either a basement dance floor or the depths of hell (you’ll have to ask one of them), while I stayed on the ground floor dance floor and danced with Megan, Stacey and Elizabeth and whoever else flitted in and out of the circle. Yes, we had ourselves some Tainted Love and, yes, we all felt very much Like a Virgin and I’ll be damned if we didn’t all have a White Wedding as well. In short, “There was muuuuusic. And daaaancing.”
Liz Maverick, with hat at rakish angle.
Elizabeth M, looking deceptively calm and poised.
Marianne Mancusi–you can barely see her adorable Harajuku purse with glow-in-the-dark lace.
Isabo K.–yes, she’s at the bar. I’m just saying.
Stacey A. I’m Not. That. Innocent.
Megan F. I don’t know why, but I have the urge to caption this photo, “Rawhide!”
Red pipe in the red line. NYC subway, the wee hours. The party is over. And we all sit in silence on a brightly lit subway car until we find ourselves home again.
By the way, did I mention that I saw my editor when I was out partying? Yeah. And my book was due a couple days after? Yeah.
Liz: Dude. That’s, like, so wrong in at least three or four different ways.
Filed under: Non-Event Specific Rebels Adventures | Tagged: Out & About in NY
