Meet Mr. West
I hid my head in a hole during fashion week and one of the many things I missed was the opening of new nightlife locale Mr. West on 22nd and 11th ave. Their claim to fame is hosting Zac Posen’s party post runway show.
In traditional
Anyway, I had no intention of going out to dance last Thursday as my evening plans involved an art gallery party and quiet mingling. I’d forgotten, however, that art gallery parties have open bars (I mean, of course, they’re trying to get you drunk enough to pay twenty thousand dollars for an abstract painting of a plastic clock). With encouragement from some naughty friends, the evening turned into more than just the art appreciation session I’d anticipated.
This is how after several fun-filled stops to nearby friends’ house parties, I ended up at 1 AM exhausted in a taxi I thought was taking me home, which my girlfriend Safari had actually directed to Mr. West.
Hijacked.
Too tired to put up a fight, I let Safari expertly negotiate our entrance. Once inside, I loved her for not letting me hit the sack.
My most recent nightlife woe is the absence of my formerly favorite hang out Upstairs on Spring Street, which appears to be closed indefinitely. The yet-to-be replicated casual club atmosphere of Upstairs is something I sorely miss. Mr. West of course hasn’t captured Upstairs’ magic, but I felt could be categorized in the ballpark of ‘relaxed.’ No, there isn’t graffiti on the walls or windows covered by black cloth hung off what looks like plastic shower curtain rods. In fact, the décor’s elegant. But to me, Mr. West had an unpretentious vibe. I think this is because the establishment considers themselves ‘a lounge which gets rowdy at night’ instead of a straight up club. Apparently, this is also an after work spot that provides legitimate services to people like tapas and finger food.
Granted, I wasn’t in any condition to be performing credible analysis, but from my somewhat hazy perspective, the place was an all-around goodtime. Fabrizio’s at the door, actually stays there, and is attitude free. The place wasn’t too crowded but wasn’t self-affirmingly spare in an attempt to appear uber-exclusive. Perhaps best of all, the space wasn’t large but didn’t fall into the closet category. In square footage, I’d say it equals Upstairs. And the music was incredible.
The signature decoration is the pearl-colored lamps that look like upside-down tulips which hang above the submerged dance floor. I really appreciated the bronze mirrored wall which gave the space the illusion of depth and allowed me to study my own dance moves.
Everyone’s already whining about how the place already is / will be a B & T rodeo. At this point, I’d say the B & T is still safely at Mansion and I’d gladly hit up Mr. West again. And don’t worry, for those of you seeking to make a statement instead of slowing down, a $25,000 bottle of Dom is available on the drink list.
