Friday I was at Johnny Utah’s. This place isn’t your usual club party. It’s more for people who are into bars and don’t want to deal with door trouble or paying cover. It’s the in-between corporate or PR girl type of crowd looking to have a beer and a laugh instead of champagne (which we actually get at the promo tables…huh). Friday I myself was actually in awe. When the emcee came on and started hyping the crowd, the DJ hitting some hip hop music, the crowd went absolutely insane. The emcee had to fend off people fighting to ride the infamous Johnny Utah mechanical bull. That’s what you call a successful night. Now what needs to happen is to bring that same energy to Mondays at  Johnny Utah’s. Let’s see how it goes this Monday.

Right after Johnny Utah’s, I took my crew down to Citrine since the owner David R. had asked me to come check it out. He runs a corporation called the Impulse Group. They’re basically are similar to Strategic Group (Noah Tepperberg for Marquee and Avenue) but not as potent. Impulse has under its wing the nightclub Citrine, Puffy’s Tavern, and just recently Johnny Utah’s…that’s a little inside scoop for you non-clubbers. Citrine had a good-looking crowd. The doormen Spencer and Han are from the good ole’ ClimaxVIP.com (very good guys that are very serious about the nightlife business and to me, very trustworthy people). Citrine charges a cover now. That’s news to me ever, and I used to work there on Thursdays some time ago.

We stayed at Citrine only an hour and a half and then went to Simyone the new EMM group spot (Mark Birnbaum Eugene Remm-I think Simyone is the name of Eugene’s Grandfather, hence the new name of the club. Those two always have some interesting reason for naming their clubs.) Obviously, they moved Alex Julian from Tenjune and now have him running the door at the old Lotus (aka the new Simyone). A lot of hot girls and good-looking guys here, then also the average looking guys that are friends with the owners of course and spend a lot of money. All of the who’s who was there etc., the usual BS for a brand new club when opening. Ellington Keys (as I mentioned before) is the # 1 model promoter. I saw him at Simyone with all his models and his partner Isaih (not sure if that spelling is correct). These are the guys who have taken the crown of being able to bring out ONLY MODELS. The Tenjune staff came through late night to chill out at  their new home. Tyson Beckford told me he loves the spot, so I wanted to see how good it really was. Eugene Remm was spinning.

The lowdown on the Simyone layout: You walk down some stairs after getting past the doorman. There’s some winding until you reach a long room. At the end of the room, is a doorway which then forms a “T.” Walking through this second doorway you can look left and right and there is another room filled with…tables (of course). On the walls in this room are funny-enough photographs of X-Rays, and when the colorful lighting passes behind it you can actually see the X-Ray. Then, they vanish. The ceiling’s low with a lot of color, while at the same time floor is black and roof is black.

I will have more information on La Pomme for you. I think I might stay on this Thursday to try it out again. I personally hope it’s more full this Thursday, because the venue itself is phenomenal.

Last Friday, I went to Italy, Russia, India and Greece.

Hence why Nadia decided to transform the gift basket from blah to breathtaking artwork. She decided that each basket should represent the experience of another country – you can send someone Venice, Moscow or the Taj Mahal. Included in a Venetian basket aren’t just Italian eatables, but masks, Italian slippers, a CD with the music of a masked ball and scented candles for the occasion. You’re literally sending someone a little corner of the world, and let’s face it, the mask is going to provide hours of giddy entertainment and you’ll probably use the slippers for life.


Essentially, you’re hand delivering someone the mood of an exotic location along with gifts they might actually use. I thought this was light years more inventive than your standard bottle of wine, apples and if you’re lucky, cheese.

A cultural around the world tour before 8pm on a weeknight without the help of my DVR or the travel channel? Again, please!

The Plaza, known primarily as a mid-town tourist venue and home to the delightful brat Eloise, seems to want a slice of the city’s nightlife party pie. In an operation that involved tenting off their lobby bar with heavy velvet curtains and installing a doorman and DJ, the Plaza now hosts its own mini lounge, seeped in darkness, elegance and plush fabrics. Currently, scattered hotel guests and large groups from New York’s nightlife circuit (imported by promoters who are selling the Plaza as a ‘pre-party’ spot) stake out on opposite sides of the venue. Busboys in tuxes navigate between them. The atmosphere is somewhat surreal, reminding me of the private, chronically un-crowded hotel bars in London, like the Sanderson’s impenetrable Purple Bar.

A major plus of the Plaza opposed to other lounges, is that the music remains at a tasteful level, making conversation with fellow humans an actual possibility. There’s also something undeniably magical about a New York staple building like the Plaza Hotel: the marble floors, the shiny bellman, the buttoned uniforms, the quality furnishings, the sparkling chandeliers. One feels privileged to be here, and for Manhattan ladies who like to dress up and dawn jewelry, this is the perfect place to debut a cocktail number.

The Plaza lounge is a new nightlife initiative, quiet at the moment with promise of becoming a bustling pre-clubbing staple. My experience was so calming, serene, and in stark contrast to normal pre-parties, that I’m sort of hoping the place doesn’t get crazy anytime soon.

Photo Tour below:

The lone interior doorman pulls back the red velvet rope. White tuxedos? Yes, please.

A clubbing crew enjoys drinks before heading to Upstairs.

Impressive glowing décor.

The Ladies Bathroom flower arrangement. A few giant steps above anything you’d see at a typical nightlife venue.

The even more gigantic entry-way flower arrangement, complete with overarching wreath, which is several times the size of an actual human being. [Note the person seated in the corner as a point of reference.]

Upstairs on Broadway and Spring a.k.a. that secret clubhouse above Café Bari in SoHo, gave wasted downtowners, celebrities, and underage models a private space in which to party till dawn. Known as a ‘late night venue,’ they ran a super selective yet hassle free door (no lines!), and provide needed relief from Meatpacking and the 27th street strip. I’ve been an Upstairs frequenter and fan since its inception, and the fact that it’s become inevitably more commercial, especially on weekends, doesn’t detract from the fun.

There’s no snobby décor, so you actually can chill out. There are no cracked out cocktail waitresses teetering around in heels. The place just feels like someone’s ratty living room that you have the privilege of shaking your booty in all night long. It’s comfortable. And there are no door people screaming for you to “clear the sidewalk” or coat check girls abducting your jacket behind your back. And, the best part, as I wrote months ago in an article entitled Ode to Clubs With Food:

At around 3:30 A.M. Upstairs serves snacks. Mini hamburgers, pizzas, and the best freakin’ French fries with sauces that put McDonalds to shame. These snacks unquestionably save my life. Not only do they start soaking up the excess alcohol in my stomach making me feel more like a human being and less like a swirling ballerina in a perverse city version of the Nutcracker, but they’re delicious and Tapas-size so you never end up overeating … So this entry is my love ode, in incorrect poetic structure, to clubs with food. Because I don’t feel I ever fully appreciated this phenomenon.

My evil genius was onto something. Mere months later, Upstairs launched ‘Downstairs’ - not a bar or extension of the club, but a classic diner. In the ‘late night’ tradition of the venue, the diner’s open from 11 PM to 7 AM, so people who like to eat post-party will have someplace to go other than French Roast and L’Express. The quirk? Danny A., Matthew Isaacs and Jordan Harris decided to pay homage to New York nightlife by naming everything on the menu after Manhattan clubs and promoters, past and present.

The Marquee Mac “N” Cheese

Matt Assantwich (after promoter Matthew Assante): His food form translates into a chicken and mozzarella white wrap with a touch of chipotle mayo toasted to perfection

The Beatrice Pancakes: With poached pears marinated in red wine sauce with mascarpone cheese

Is anyone drooling yet?

I almost wish they didn’t keep vampire hours so I could enjoy the food sober. Almost everything comes with fries and the crowd favorite (which the doorman was eating in the middle of the street on my way out last night) seems to be the Mike St Pierre Steak Sandwich, which comes with sautéed onions and avocado.

Finally! A light at the end of the hangover tunnel!

Naturally, I remain insulted that I didn’t get a Model Behavior dipping sauce or onion ring named after me, but that’s okay. Despite my love of mini burgers, I guess it’s just not my time to be immortalized through diner food. Check it out and enjoy.

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