After nearly two months of avoiding the New York nightlife scene, I succumbed this past weekend to a night out on the town. I learned that Upstairs was closed (on a Friday night – odd!) so we subsequently ended up at the Eldridge, heralded as the newest, smallest, best thing since Bungalow 8.

Is it just me or are New York places shrinking?

It’s like opening those Russian dolls which always have a smaller one inside. That’s been my experience with nightlife. Each new locale gets increasingly tinier, as well as increasingly far away from Chelsea.

Having been so out of the loop, I had no idea where we were going and why what seemed like your average LES bar was being so strict at the door. Unsurprisingly this door, which Steve Lewis called “tighter than a Donald Trump pre-nup,” is a point of pride. Bottle service is not required, but with the Eldridge offering cocktails from $20 - $40, bottles may seem like a bargain for the first time in your life.

Clever.

When I entered I saw a sax player, lots of exposed stone, and somewhat out of place, festive balloons. I became convinced that the ‘real bar’ was downstairs and tried to descend until I was stopped by a cocktail waitress. Apparently, there is no downstairs. The Eldridge is that small and relaxed – to the extent that I assumed some sort of havoc must be taking place in a mosh pit underground.

There is no trashy, hidden dance floor here, so I naturally found myself comparing the place to Goldbar. The difference is that here they’re into wood (the membership tokens are hunks of wood, the décor is wood, even the business card is two ply cherry) instead of golden skulls. The atmosphere was more subdued, not sparkly like Goldbar, which in wearing a muted t-shirt, I appreciated.

Relaxed is good.

Not too crowded is good.

Even though I’m often allergic to live music, the jazz was good, especially since the DJ expertly upped the energy with some more commercial tracks as the night progressed.

Everything I read about the Eldridge proved true in retrospect. Facts:

1. It’s Matt Levine’s baby.

2. The exclusivity puts Bungalow in its prime to shame.

3. Yes, there is a $650k glass-enclosed wall of unopened, gold-plated Armand de Brignac champagne, all of which apparently appeared in a Jay-Z video.

4. Yes, there are celebrities everywhere. On the night I attended, only an embarrassingly sloppy Jaslene from America’s Next Top Model and a few socialites whose names I can’t remember, but the club’s ‘been here’ list is impressive.

5. They keep it remarkably pleasant and uncrowned.

I’d read about a butler service which I didn’t experience first hand, although I’m not doubting its existence. A lot of bloggers have been hating on the ‘doucheyness’ of this place - the strict door policy and over-the-top exclusivity.

I get it.

Yet these haters forget that a lot of people crave the experience of being curbside hopefuls. It makes nightlife more like a game. It’s the same as the thrill of going out pre-legitimate ID, when you never knew if you’d have the best night of you’re life or be called out by the bouncer, sent home, and disgraced.

If you’re nostalgic for this excitement and unpredictability, trying to talk your way into the Eldridge is the right activity for you.

Tags: clubs, LES, lounges, Mini Reviews, New York, Nightlife

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 7th, 2008 at 2:57 pm and is filed under Mini Reviews, NYC, clubs, downtown scene, lounges. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.