Sleep No More Moves Up to the Roof With Gallow Green

By now, if you haven’t heard of Sleep No More, a macabre, interactive version of Macbeth by the British theatrical group Punchdrunk, you are probably living under a rock. But while many of the mysteries of the show have been revealed via blogs and Yelp, the folks behind the performance keep adding new bits.

Their most recent addition is Gallow Green, a rooftop space above the masked madness below. Right now, the airy bar is in previews, so forgive them if the older lady in white stumbles, both on her words and the uneven terrine—it’s still 100 percent worth checking out. First, it’s on a roof, which always makes things more exciting, especially at sunset after a heavy rainstorm. Luckily, even if it rains, the majority of the space is sheltered in airy tarps. On one end they have a glorious old train car, gutted and rusted with delicate lace curtains hanging in the windows and a long, wooden table in the center. The rest of Gallow Green is a mesh of tables situated around pentagonal structure with rows of fresh herbs growing and white clad waiters running around. The whole thing brings to mind a fairy tale or some Shakespearian sonnet, perhaps it’s an urban version of Midsummer’s Night Dream?

Now, as for the acting part: like Sleep No More, there is a vague plot to Gallow Green, as well as an ominous elevator. This one is named Miranda, and the groans and squeaks that emanate from her make you wonder if the noises are for real or a soundtrack hidden in the paneling. Once you arrive upstairs, a hostess running the “fresh” flower stall (ask her for a stem, she will let you have it) greets you and leads you upstairs. We were graciously seated and poured over the menu of punches like the Sleep Bowmore Punch (made with Madeira wine, Bowmore single-malt whisky, nutmeg, and orange Curacao), which were created by cocktail expert David Wondrich. They also have a nice house cocktail list with appropriately themed names like Damned Spot (with Famous Grouse whisky, limes, Fentiman’s ginger beer, and a “spot” of Petchaud’s bitters) and Third Degree (with gin, dry vermouth, absinthe, and orange bitters). For food, the plates are small but succulent and run from three to seventeen dollars. We loved the warm pretzels with spicy mustard, Scotch quail eggs, the fun jar of summer pickles, and rich pulled brisket toast with tomato jam.

Once we settled into our cocktails and nibbles, that’s when we realized Gallow Green is a play. It became clear after a mysterious lady in a white satin gown came around and told us she and her husband threw this party for an important woman every night, just in case she showed up. The husband came by and said the same thing, and wispy girls flitted about the place looking lost, sad, and in love. Apparently, none were the one the couple was waiting for, but I did leave wondering who she was and what would happen if she did show, which, undoubtedly, at some point she does. With Gallow Green, at every turn you get the sense of the mystery and finesse that made Sleep So More so popular, and, if they play their cards right, it will be just as successful—at least until winter comes. 

London Preview: ME London Hotel

With openings in Madrid and Barcelona, the ME by Melia imprint is making a sweep across Europe.Now here comes the UK version; in September, the West End will see the arrival of the new ME London, designed by the prolific Foster + Partners.

Built around a 11-story atrium, the ME features a 157 sleekly designed rooms and suites. But sleep will be the last thing considered here, with glamourous outposts of New York’s Asellina and STK (from The ONE Group), as well as rooftop bar Radio. ME…oh my.

Loopy Doopy Bar Is Not a Goldman Conspiracy

The Loopy Doopy Rooftop Bar at the Conrad New York hotel might fit neatly into the general conglomerate of Manhattan rooftop bars, but for one fun fact: the building is owned by Goldman Sachs. As part of what’s been dubbed “Goldman Alley,” Loopy Doopy—named for the Sol DeWitt piece in the hotel’s lobby—goes along with the Shake Shack, Vintry Wine & Whiskey, and Salvatore Anzalone’s barbershop to form Battery Park City’s new all-inclusive comfort zone for the 8,000 Goldman employees that come and go about the company’s main tower.

“On a Tuesday night, usually, you can’t move it’s so packed,” the bartender tells me, pouring a Maker’s and soda right before closing up—at 8:15 pm—because of high winds.

“And it’s all people from this company?”

“Goldman? Well, they own the building, so they probably encourage them to come here, I don’t know.”

“And they’re cool?”

He shrugs, swapping through facial expressions until he finds one that fits. “Yeah—I mean—yeah.”

This Tuesday, it’s a mellow scene. It’s Goldman people, but even better—Goldman interns. Skinny boys in blue and pink dress shirts huddle around like asparagus, not quite certain how to hold a drink in their hand. Twentysomething girls in pretty dresses sit at the bar, looking slightly disappointed that every other male there is still a child (myself included. Though I did carry the briefcase my mom bought me that I’ve never used). 

My old friend, whom we’ll call Wes, meets me at the bar so I feel like I have some reason to be there. He happens to be an advisor (or something) at JP Morgan, and I happen to be interested in figuring out what the hell Libor means.

I won’t bother to quote, because it’s super convoluted, but the important part is, Barclays took over Lehman Brothers after the financial collapse. And now that this interest rate-fixing scandal has come to light, everyone at Barclays except the chairman, Marcus Agius, is getting in trouble. Why hasn’t Agius gotten in trouble? Because he married a Rothschild. And the Rothschilds somehow have a stake in the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, which they intend to maintain, in order to control the cost of money and the value of everything they hold.

If that sounds weird, or Ron Paul-ish, the answer is yes, you’re welcome. What else is a little weird is that this massive investment bank owns a hotel and a couple restaurants and a gym and a barbershop, and their employees are “encouraged” to patronize them and stay within a one-block radius of the office for anything they’d need. I’m not saying there’s a definite conspiracy theory to be hatched, but for such a massive company that relies on manufactured financial products and manipulated interest rates (even if indirectly), it’s sort of weird that they intend to keep their sheep so close to the shepherd, especially since New York is a fine enough pasture from tip to tip. And what I also know, from watching enough Hitchcock movies, is that if something strange and menacing has to go down, it usually happens on a rooftop. Cheers.