Last Night: Rosewood Was Slamming, Spotted Leo DiCaprio & Amanda Bynes

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So last night I had a blast. It was a bit of a pleasant surprise how great the opening of Rosewood, 5 E. 19th St., turned out to be. The space Rosewood occupied was once many clubs run by many operators. In my opinion, none of those joints were any good. Dorsia, some people said, had its moments, but none while I was there, which I admit was rare. The redux of the space into Rosewood seems to be on the cheap but that often doesn’t matter as long as it’s comfortable, the flow is good ,and the overall feeling is positive. I had heard that Leo…yeah “that” Leo, was there at the "friends and family" event a few days before, and that last night other boldface names were expected. From my perspective in the DJ booth, I saw beautiful people committed to a good time, and one semi-celeb: the much-talked-about Amanda Bynes. As far as I could tell, she was behaving marvelously. Noah Tepperberg once introduced me to her at Marquee many years ago, and she was all smiles and sweetness. I like to think of her that way and try to dispel reports of her "Lohanisms.”

The rock-themed den had Kelle Calco following me. His following is so hot that I was left shocked and awed and honored to make them sway. They seemed to enjoy my rock and roll tip. Upstairs, DJ Danny Rockz put the well-heeled crowd into a frenzy. He was like a rockstar with most of the crowd, dancing while facing the DJ booth as he put on a show. The room was illuminated by the requisite sparklers announcing the presence of the sweet set. Rosewood was slamming last night and I congratulate all involved.
 
After my DJ set, I headed to Hotel Chantelle to congratulate the wonderful Luc Carl at his birthday party. Luc is the real deal. He was humble about the event which also had a rock theme, with DJ Ian El Dorado offering rock anthems and crowd pleasers. Tommy London, one of the night’s hosts, handed me a flier for his Bowery Ballroom Dirty Pearls gig on January 4th, 2013. That is the first event in the next year that I have been invited to. It’s kind of eerie. The Pearls are heading off on their first-ever national tour and it couldn’t happen to nicer guys. We scooted off to The Famous Cozy Soup ‘n’ Burger on Broadway off Astor for a late-night burger and coffee malted. OMG I shouldn’t have; it was amazing and I want more but must maintain my figure. Cozy was slammed with familiar faces and eclectic strangers. It reminds me of Kiev, back in the day. Great food and a New York downtown crowd winding down after all the bells and whistles of the infinite night.

Sunday is Funday again at the re-tooled GoldbarJonny Lennon, a rocker from Queens, is at the helm of this weekly must-visit. Jonny and I are getting bro tattoos soon. It’s like that.

Jaguars 3’s Opening Bash Tonight, What Makes DJ Jennifly Green So Fly

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I’m very late today because I went to Long Island to pick up slate for the fireplace at The Elsinore, which is quickly approaching completion. I think it will be done the end of next week. On the way back, with literally a ton of stone in the truck, the truck konked out. Luckily, we were on a steep hill and spotted a gas station at the bottom. We just rolled into the place and they went to work right away to fix what was broke. Next door to the gas station was a Dunkin’ Donuts so it wasn’t a complete disaster.

One of the prime directives of nightlife and maybe life itself is, "if it ain’t broke don’t fix it." The converse of this is, "if it is broke, fix it… and fast." My DJ gig at Hotel Chantelle got a little broke as mainstay Scott Hockins and his merry band of rockers left, anticipating the imminent opening of The Elsinore, where he has a piece. Tim Spuches of Chantelle added Michael Tee as a DJ, added fabulous new promoters, and gave Sam Valentine the tools he needs to reinvigorate his Thursday night. Yes, Sam got a couple of stripper poles to excite his crowd. Oh, and he hired a couple of girls to do what they do with those. Sam had his last bash at White Noise this past Friday. This new party is called Generation Wild and it blasts off tonight.
 
I will DJ off and on with only one regret: missing the opening of Jaguars 3, a new nightclub in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, (225 47th Street). They’re doing a dinner and serving complimentary cocktails tonight and all of Brooklyn’s finest will be on hand – maybe Staten Island as well. They offered to send me a car, but alas I’m otherwise engaged. I’d cross-commute for this one because old-school Brooklyn clubs are amazingly amazing when they are. As part of the festivities, Chuck Zito will be celebrating his birthday there tonight, surely setting a tone. Chuck will be the regular VIP host of Jaguars 3. Manhattan joints are what they ar,e and maybe Brooklyn clubs are what they aren’t, but sometimes that’s just more fun.
 
Tomorrow night is the monthly party Hot Music and my pal DJ Jennifly Green is expecting me. I will surely come, as her parties are that rare mix of cultures and music populated by exciting, dancing adults. I asked her all about it:
 
Tell me about the party…the wheres, the whens, the whos but more importantly the whys, as in why should people go.
Hot Music is simply Hot Music! Basically, Hot Music is a monthly party where the vibe, music, and having fun are king, and image and attitude are irrelevant. Musically, there’s no particular mission statement, but expect to hear a lot of funk, 80s & 90s, R & B, house, & perhaps a little classic hip-hop… Where in the city can nightlife dwellers go to hear real dance music from all genres that’s not exactly radio-friendly, top 40 music? Your choices are very limited. Hot Music happens every first Friday of the month at subMercer.  Resident DJs include: South London’s Jennifly, DJ MOma, and ROK ONE, all bringing elements of their varied styles into the mix. If you are looking for a great, sophisticated party, you should go to Hot Music at the subMercer, where all you need are your dancing shoes. Our one goal is to stay connected to the people on the dance floor and keep them there.
 
Why a monthly? What are the advantages of doing a monthly as opposed to a weekly?
The idea is to give something for people to look forward to once a month. They know if they miss it, they will have to wait a whole month, and that is long! So we do it once a month to make it a special event to look forward to. And people get upset if they do miss it; we have gained a loyal following –  it’s the the usual Friday night affair for many. We started the party a year ago, and it’s still hot! Hot Music brings the feel of what basement-style parties were like in New York 10 years ago, before bottle service ruined the easy-going vibe. Why should you go to Hot Music? The dance floor is always packed, with a transatlantic hip crowd that’s a microcosm of New York City. Black, white, gay, straight, and the fabulous!
 
We play danceable music from all genres: 80s, nu- disco, deep house, 90s dance, new wave and electronica; whatever mood we are in we go with it. Sometimes we have themes, like a tribute to a recently-passed artist.
 
Where else can you hear Holy Ghost alongside Prince, Talking Heads, D-Train, and Cut Copy? People come to our party because they know what they are going to get and hear. It’s very rare that you hear all these types of music under one roof in one night; that’s what makes our party unique. Then there’s the talent of the three DJs that make Hot Music its namesake.
 
We DJ’d together at that getting-to-know-you-party for staffers when Blackbook merged with Vibe. Tell us about yourself.
I’m originally from London. I have DJ’d at some of the most exclusive lounges in New York, such as subMercer, The Mulberry Project, Peninsula Hotel Roof Deck, and Apothèke. I like to DJ at the cool spots with a sophisticated clientele who enjoy good music – not the annoying type that doen’t know who David Bowie is. My DJ sets are an eclectic mix of dance music of all genres, from music that were popular on the radio in the UK when I was growing up, like Britpop and new wave, to 80s, pop/R & B, disco, electronica, lounge, post punk, nu-disco, indie, and house.

Andy Rourke Talks About The Smiths & This Weekend

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This Saturday, August 4th I will whisk myself east for a daytime (2pm to 4pm) DJ gig, poolside at The Montauk Beach House, for the swells that are finding nirvana there. It’s their inaugural year and I’m hoping I won’t blow it for future generations. I’m opening for Andy Rourke (ex-The Smiths). Terry Casey is the resident DJ, and he and Matt Thomas set the whole thing up. I’m excited. I’ll blow by the hated Hamptons in the wee hours and grab a chaise lounge and some sun until called upon to move the masses. I have no idea what to spin to a poolside brunch crowd but figure I’ll start with Bo Diddley’s "I’m a Man" and go from there. Like most DJs, I have over 10,000 tracks to choose from. Many guys have 10x that amount. The crowd has been described to me as intelligent and not desiring of the requisite top 40 that I hear everywhere. DJs mostly just shrug and say things like "I give them what they want.” My second track might be the Stones’ "You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” I try not to plan; it’s usually a waste of time. If the music required could be predicted, iPhones and mixed DJ sets would replace us all. I met up with Andy Rourke at his East Village Radio Show, I brought along photographer Lela Edgar to capture the interview. The three of us slipped next door to Lil’ Frankie’s and enjoyed the atmosphere.

We’re going to work together this Saturday at The Montauk Beach House via Terry Casey. I’m opening for you, not unlike Bowie opening for The Smiths, right? Ok, wrong. What kind of music can be expected?
Well, Steve, me and you go way back; the last time I saw you was in Limelight Club’s VIP attic space –  I think it was 1984!!! Heady days indeed. You can open up for me anytime, but you will never be Bowie 😉 Regarding my DJ policy: I kind of play whatever the fuck I want, but always in a nice way. You have to test/read the crowd and see what they are dancing to. I like this challenge; I tend to play classic songs that have stood the test of time.

I just saw the new Clash documentary, The Rise and Fall of the Clash, at the CBGB Festival. You met Joe Strummer and have a tale. Tell us.
I had the pleasure to meet Joe a couple of times at the Glastonbury Festival. The first time was around his now-legendary camp fire, with some of his crazy but lovable friends; there was usually weed and mushrooms involved. The second time was one year later at Glastonbury again; this time I was playing bass with Badly Drawn Boy. We were chilling in the back of our tour bus and Joe just appeared in the back lounge with the biggest spliff known to mankind and insisted we all partake. We did! Joe will always be sadly missed.

You and your new bride Francesca have been married for three weeks. Congrats! Tell me about being a happy middle-aged rocker
I’m a happy man who just got married to my wife Francesca; that’s all you need to know.

What are you working on?
I have a project with Ole Koretsky called JetLag. It’s taken us a few years to get right and also find the right musicians. Recently, we played four successful gigs in NYC and we are about to film a video to promote one of our songs "Falling Apart.”

Looking back at the bands, the lifestyle, the fame, what are you happy to have left on the table and what would you grab back first?
I had an amazing time with The Smiths…SHIT! When I started with the band I was 17. We split when I was 23. I would leave the band politics on the table and take back the super gang/friend mentality that we had. When we were a team we were invincible!!! Money can’t buy that feeling. Show me the table.

On your East Village Radio Show, you were talking about the Bowie book. Tell me about the show, that book, and the era.
I do my show every Monday on eastvillageradio.com, It’s called JetLag – the same as my band. I play songs that I love and also get to interview some great people. A few weeks ago I interviewed Nile Rogers from Chic, It was an honor. For instance, today I just interviewed Peter Doggett about his new book, The Man Who Sold The World: David Bowie in the 1970s. It was a pleasure to speak with him – lots of insights. It’s a fascinating read.

Andy Rourke

What’s In a Name? The Elsinore Gets New Moniker Just Days Before Opening

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As reported here and elsewhere, I am designing The Elsinore at 17 Stanton Street  -but is this true? Alas, I must say no. In a daring move to correct a glaring problem, the players-to-be-named-later at 17 Stanton are dropping the name and opting to go with a new one. Named after the castle Elsinore from William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, the name didn’t get the desired traction, and hours before opening, the change has been made. I am sworn to secrecy about the new brand, but personally like it a lot more. I thought The Elsinore was an awful name and found few who liked it. On three separate occasions, people heard it and declared "they’ll call it El Snore". At BINGO the other night, a nightlife operator said it was "the worst name he had ever heard." I got all defensive but a thousand "I knows" would not have lessened the feeling of emptiness I felt that something I was building would be saddled with "Elsinore".

William Shakespeare, who I will refer to here as Billy, Willy, Will, the Common Bard, or the Bard of Avon said it best with his "What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." I double-checked the spelling of Billy’s last name and got this:
"During Shakespeare’s career as actor and dramatist, variations seemed to have had decreased considerably, and on many documents concerning Shakespeare’s land deals and theatrical company patents, the name is spelled Shakespere, although Shakspeare, Shakspere, Shackspeare, and Shakespeare also appear, often with multiple spellings occurring within the same document."
The 17 Stanton Street space, which is all blue and beautiful, will soon be known by its new name. The Elsinore will soon be forgotten, the sun, the stars, and the moon will rise and set, and the beautiful people will come and drink and be merry and embrace the change as they embrace all change. If they get a little confused or have to think about it too much, they’ll just pop another bottle. The castle Elsinore still stands in Denmark where it always has and will surely remain oblivious to the usurpers and their flock at 17 Stanton.
 
That movie Anonymous, and a whole lot of sharp people (not just internet conspiracy nuts), think Willy may not have written these plays at all. They think this dude Lord Edward de Vere may have been the real author.
 
The new name of 17 Stanton will be revealed today or tomorrow. As the Common Bard once said (maybe): "Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t." Before you go quoting Will at me with stuff like "Lord, what fools these mortals be!’ I’ll sling some Bard of Avon at you: "If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto me." I agree, for "therin lies the rub" (attribute to Bill or Lord de Vere, your call). 
 
Will the new name have time to catch on as the joint opens in just a few days? Mr Shackspeare might have said "Boldness be my friend!" This is a bold move by experienced players. I heard their misgivings about the name The Elsinore and quoted Billy Bard at them: "For my part, it was Greek to me." Although something in the back of mind whispered Danish. I continued with another Williamism: "Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once." When asked what the hell that meant, I replied, "I’m never really sure with The Bard of Avon." I dug deep into Bill and spat out, "I am not bound to please thee with my answer." And doubled-up with "Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness"… to confuse them.
 
Someone sent for some CliffsNotes and slung these Bard bows and arrows at me: "The golden age is before us, not behind us," followed by, "If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men’s cottage princes’ palaces." I googled Will and offered "No legacy is so rich as honesty," and then quickly, "I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage where every man must play a part, And mine is a sad one." I could have taken some words of Willy and offered them in The Elsinore’s defense: "Tis better to bear the ills we have, than fly to others that we know not of." I could have tried to make them pause, delay them from this deed with some Common Bard stuff like, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." I did not. I agreed with the change. I was sad to say goodbye to "The Elsinore" on some weird nostalgic level, but agree it was just a bad name. I believe that the place and the players will come out of this smelling sweeter than roses without that moniker.
 
The players weighed living with a name they didn’t love but losing some marketing steam or going with something new and grabbing some publicity (like this) to offset that. There is a lot more to this story, but my designer hat is stifling my writer hat.  I have read, indeed, my Shakspere and offer "the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing." I whipped up my Hamlet CliffsNotes and heeded the words from Act V, Scene ii: "The rest is silence."
 
Alas, poor The Elsinore – I knew him. I close with some predictable words from Lord Edward or William Shakespeare… "Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow."

Pink Elephant is Back

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Pink Elephant died a slow death during its last incarnation on W. 27th Street. It wasn’t its fault. Located in what once was a club mall, Pink fell victim to the crimes and misdemeanors of its neighbors. At first there was Amy Sacco’s Bungalow 8, the hottest spot in our galaxy. Then Marquee followed and the hood was named OUCH or Outer Chelsea and a tide of clubs followed. Caine was there, and Crobar and Home and Guesthouse and Bed and the very unspirited Spirit. Thousands came as there was something, someplace for everyone. Then there were fights and underage drinking and cops on horseback and Kleig lights and enforcement and harassment and the street was blocked to traffic. Long legged beauties and their monied beaus were forced to disembark taxis and walk down the street to their favorite watering hole. The Louboutins were never meant for the pavement and the swells didn’t want to sashay along with the hoi polloi. Enforcement, spurred by a rezoning of the hood to mixed use (condos and co-ops), attacked and scared the best folks to another friendlier club world: the Meatpacking District.

Pink died, despite the loyalty of its crowd and the abilities of its owners and staff. There were some skirmishes, as loss of revenues and a failing business always expose the worst in people. It left remembered well and now it is back in a big way.

One of my other jobs is club design. In that capacity, I am often brought in to analyze spaces for future use. Paul Sevigny brought me to Love the club on 8th street and MacDougal. He loved it and it almost became a new Beatrice. Alas, that didn’t happen, nor did another incarnation an ambitious new-ish operator had in mind. Pink grabs one of the best available rooms in the city. During the day, the block is heaven for Jersey girls looking to score cheap shoes while their boyfriends shop for bongs and coke spoons. At night, it’s a ghost town, a quick route for cabs to get from west to east. Love was the home to many real great house parties as it became known for its real great sound and distant neighbors.

Their press release talks of ancient gatherings in the space. It was called Bon Soir in the1950’s and the likes of Barbara Streisand and Wally Cox performed. Richard Nixon came by, as did Brando and others. David Sarner and Robert Montwaid will try to capture some of that cachet and that of the Pink Elephant brand. It will be high energy dance music, napkins in the air, and beautiful people. I always thought that Pink Elephant was a fantastic name and also a fantastic brand. The brand has thrived in Mexico and Brazil but now returns home. I was told it will offer "Intimate, elegant, cabaret style entertainment with burlesque shows, paying homage to the Village and nostalgic history when people dressed up for a night out on the town."

A Little Bit of Rum & Hope

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For me, this summer of love has been well…lovely. I decided to file only three days a week until Labor Day reignites my passion for writing this labor-of-love column. Yet here I am again. I’ll keep it short and as sweet as that apple rosemary puree they put on my porkchop over at Hope Garage, which had its friends and family opening last night. Yep, it was a garage and yep, it’s on Hope Street, number 163, right off of Union. When they officially open, they’ll be open until 4am. The staff and food and ambiance will have me walking over as soon as that happens. The thing about this friends and family gathering was that it was full of friends who I never see on this side of the river. Most are still shocked that I live nearby as I am shocked that they still live over there. I play and work in Manhattan, but I walk my dog and thrive in Brooklyn. I might not have attended, but Noelle Bailey, who many of you know from the doors of NYC clubs, told me I had better go. She’s out in Colorado now, finishing up her PHD. She’s the type that will reach right through my computer screen and yank me if I disregard. She won’t have to command me to attend again. Hope Garage is a welcome addition to the hood.

Tonight I will attend the 2FEET 12INCHES opening reception for C.ZAR a screening at White Rabbit, 145 East Houston Street. That starts at 7pm. Robert Aloia, who is curating this and a series of other events under the 2FEET12INCHES brand, always has a hot, eclectic turnout.

This Saturday I’ll pop out for the day to The Montauk Beach House, my home away from home. My pal Paul Sevigny will be DJing and celebrating the birthday of DJ Peter Makebish. They’re also launching a "New Revolving Showcase for Local Artists" under the title “Downtown Art.” I’m gonna leave early Saturday morning to beat the traffic and take a 10-hour energy thing to get me home to my own bed. Yep, I still roll like that.

Tomorrow is National Rum Day…yep. Those good people over at Sailor Jerry Rum are taking over Mother’s Ruin, 18 Spring Street (Mott and Elizabeth), and are offering up $2 Sailor Jerry Slushies all night. I did some research because, yep, I roll like that, and National Irish Coffee Day is January 25th, World Whiskey Day is March 27th, National Bourbon Day is June 14, and National Tequila Day is July 24 – which is way too close to National Scotch Day on July 27. National Vodka Day is October 4th and, of course, National Hangover Day is January 1st.

Actors Playhouse Nightclub Opens & Disappoints

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I was invited to the Saturday night opening of Actors Playhouse, a club in what used to be the Actors Playhouse Theatre, 100 7th Ave. South right off of Christopher St. I had first seen the space  a couple of years ago when James Huddleston was considering it. James was hot off being the doorman of hotspot The Jane Hotel when the hip crowd couldn’t get enough of that space. For all the usual reasons, things didn’t pan out, and James found his gold over at Pravda. The Actors space he showed me was ancient wood, and had antique mirrors and a dressing room maze where people could easily get lost and then deliciously  found. At the time I thought it might be a winner. But a new crew has taken over the joint and they’ve paid no mind to the natural beauty of the room, opting to gut it and slick it out. It doesn’t work on any level.

I was told by attendee Joe "Viagra" Vicari that it was designed by Bluarch, which did Greenhouse and Juliet Supper Club. I didn’t much like either of those, but Greenhouse was affective. Juliet looked worn out way too soon. Anyway, design-wise Actors Playhouse looks like a cheap version of those. The biggest design crime was not embracing the assets the space offered; now it’s cold and lit up like a Coney Island attraction, and the flow is just awful. I could go on and on but my mother told me at dinner last night while we were discussing an entirely different matter that if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything. So I’m not going to say anything.

I will say that Joe Vicari and I have buried the hatchet after many years of wanting to hit each other with one.

Word comes that Matt Levine has grabbed the old Florent space in the Meatpacking. Florent was the in-place for the in-crowd, when they were still butchering cows where high-end clubs, restaurants, and boutiques now flourish.  Back before all that, it was the scenes last stop or – gasp – if you were real in and desperate you might get a bit of vodka in your coffee at 6am. Every ho, bro, and club employee would head there after all the chores were done for a good meal. Tables  werethisclose, and spying on the celeb and his date –  who were almost in your lap – became an art form. It was grand.

Nothing has worked in the space since Florent closed. Matt will come up with something. I have been told by a guy who should know that Matt snatched up the failed Merkato 55 space as well. Everyone in town is pushing and shoving to get an inch in the Meatpacking, and Matt lands two. He either is the wiliest of operators or paid too much. A combination of both is probably close to the truth, but then again what is too much for the area which has more foot traffic than anywhere, save Times, Herald, or Union Square. The Meatpacking District might soon be named the Cheesepacking District, but there still are outposts of elegance to entertain even a jaded old codger like me.

London Opening: Bird of Smithfield

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Oh, those English…even their restaurants have poetic names. The mellifluous-sounding Bird of Smithfield comes by way of namesake chef Alan Bird, and it conveniently looks right out onto the very famous and vegetarian-repellant Smithfield Market. One of London’s most high-profile spring openings, Bird himself has lorded over the kitchens at such celeb-magnets as The Ivy and Soho House–so expect many of his glittering followers to be popping down to Smithfield Street.

Spread over five floors of a Georgian Townhouse, the concept here is to offer a very Brit (lots of Holland & Sherry tweed and herringbone fabrics) epicurean playland, with a unique feel in each space. Ground floor is a relaxed bar-lounge area; the basement houses the Birdcage bar, complete with performance stage; the first floor main restaurant serves a meat and fish focused modern take on classic British cooking (Bird is credited with making shepherd’s pie chic), with private dining one floor up; and the roof terrace, with its striking views of the Market’s majestic, Italianate towers, is for for drinks, snacks (BoS is the exclusive destination for North Devon’s Shah Caviar) and a carefully chosen selection of stogies from Sautter of Mount Street. We think it will…fly.

[Related: BlackBook London Guide; Listings for Bird of Smithfield, The Ivy, Soho House; More by Ken Scrudato; Follow Ken on Twitter]

J. Press’ Slimmer-Cut Line Opens Shop On Bleecker St.

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“I think that the downward fall is going to be very fast…for the entire preppie class,” warned the serial deb escort Charlie Black in Whit Stillman’s 1990 bougie romp Metropolitan. Two decades later, for those preps still hanging on by a thread, that thread may as well be bright seersucker from the just-opened J. Press York Street, the sister line to the preppy label J.Press in Midtown East.

J. Press York Street – the college-oriented, slimmer-cut line by J.Press – opened its storefront last week on Bleecker, far enough from old-guard pinstripers to forge its own following. The clothing itself, designed by Ariel and Shimon Ovadia of Ovadia & Sons, has a playful way of pushing what one can wear and still command any respect. A madras blazer ($525) and all-white bowtie loafers ($430) would make a solid Tigertones getup for the springtime concerts. If you’re going for the Pete-Campbell-working-on-a-Sunday look, v-neck cricket sweaters in navy and white ($225) ought to do it.

Other items can come across as equal parts awesome and completely unrelated to the general theme. American-made red jeans ($195) would go great with a bright red cotton Barracuda jacket ($290)—like a Thriller getup that breathes and doesn’t kill cows. I asked the clerk if the designers themselves grew up in America. He confirmed they had (“they’re Jews from Brooklyn.”)

A room hidden behind faux bookshelf doors keeps an appropriately tame suit collection ($1450 for mid-gray heather or chalk-striped navy). Soft, draping pocket T’s in navy and sun-washed red ($85) come dotted with bandana-style paisley graphics, in lieu of sailboats or tennis rackets. Of course, there’s plenty of that club shit, too. A white shawl-collared cardigan ($225) bears a chest patch with crossed rackets that reads “York St. Tennis Club,” not unlike the hand-me-down “Polo Tennis Academy” sweater I rocked as a one-year-old. Similar juvenilia are peppered about; a multi-colored striped woven belt ($89) takes close examination to confirm it’s not needlepoint.

Throughout the shop, glass cases hold old wooden pipes, tattered Playboys from the ’70s, and tchotchkes from the personal collection of Scott Hill, who designed the layout. The first-edition Horatio Alger novels seem a bit out of place in what’s otherwise a debatably sincere shrine to Skull and Bones nepotism. You can buy a Yale lapel pin for $49 (J. Press itself debuted on the Yale campus), although Princeton’s looks cooler, so maybe go with that one.

What’s notably absent from the York Street label is eveningwear; you’ll have to trek uptown for those classic J. Press coattails and cummerbunds. What you can pick up, however, are four variations of a madras bowtie ($69), which just might be what the next deb season needs. After all, where’s the fun in taking yourself too seriously?