Gold Is On The Rise
I thoroughly enjoy admitting when I’m wrong. Maybe because it happens so often. Everyone ready to time travel? Good. Let’s go way back to October of last year, when I had this to say about the swanky, closet-size,
In broad terms, Goldbar pisses me off. The door’s extremely tight and the place is never packed. They’re super snoody and won’t let patrons take pictures inside, and no, I don’t think this is to protect the artwork (I really doubt they’re hanging paintings that valuable in place where people come to get shitfaced and often climb/fall into the walls).
Hmm. Several months later, I opted for a softer tone:
After not loving Gold Bar my first few encounters, I actually had a positive experience there this weekend. This might have had something to do with the fact it was our last stop of the evening (we arrived at 3:30 AM) and everyone had easily drunk a bottle of vodka a head since we left the house.
Not really a ringing endorsement but okay.
The ‘gold skull closet’ as I fondly call it was actually FULL (I guess that’s what happens when you go out on Saturday instead of Monday night), the music was FUN (Billy Joel? Yes, please!) and the bathrooms, which I used for the first time, were clean and spacious enough for me to stretch out and change my clothes (don’t ask why I was changing clothes).
As if we weren’t retard enough, my girlfriend ordered me a specialty alcoholic concoction called the Gold Rush. It tasted like a Long Island Iced Tea on crack. When I inquired about its ingredients, I received a slurred response that it was whisky, bourbon, and honey, all made ‘bearable’ by a giant ice cube in the middle. I took two sips and wisely professed to my friend,
“This is throw up. This is throw up.”
I think what I was trying to express is that the drink was both vomit inducing while also tasting like liquid sour patch kids gone bad. It’s a miracle no one projectile puked that night.
Months later again, I’m here to come full circle and give Goldbar two tequila happy thumbs up. I found myself hanging out there both this past weekend and the one before. I’m here to say, on the record, that this place is a good time.
I partied there on a Sunday night and found what I judged to be the sexiest crowd out that night in the city. The flocks of female supermodels seemed relaxed instead of rigid. Men weren’t busy boasting bottle service to impress, they were actually pulling out cute dance moves and managing to look like homo-sapiens genuinely enjoying themselves instead of bankers desperate to prove that they know how to party.
Since Goldbar shimmers with a lounge-y feel, that hard-core club vibe that often makes intimacy, listening or thinking impossible, isn’t there. You are therefore more prone to talk to some one instead of just making vulgar “I’m checking you out” insinuations with your eyes across a crowded dance floor.
I’ve been getting excited since someone in the rumor mill has been churning out news that the owners of Goldbar and Cain would be opening “Cain Downtown” here in the SoHo area. Naturally, I was thrilled about the birth of another downtown club I could attend, get wrecked in, and walk home from. It only took me an entire year to warm up to Goldbar! Now that the skull closet and I are friends, I had high hopes for my relationship with Jamie and Jayma’s next downtown venture.
Sadly, it doesn’t seem like this is going to materialize. Apparently, the locals are hell-bent against Cain becoming their new neighbor. And frankly who can blame them? I wouldn’t want an establishment that was known for go-go dancers in zebra bikinis and for pushing people too drunk to see straight onto the street at four AM as my neighbor either.
Tragic story for all of us who were hoping to save cab fare to
Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com
Tags: downtown scene, drinking, lounges, Mini Reviews, New York, SoHo, VIP
