Any night that ends up in Bellevue can’t be all bad. Your humble servant managed to hurt himself badly enough to require attention and numbing pills. The cute doctor quoting Gloria Gaynor said “I will survive” with the oomph and believability of the disco diva. I believed her and here I am. Instead of flowers, send sympathy notes to Kenmare, which has just won The Eater Award for Best Shitshow of the Year. The other nominees were Artisanal, The Lion, Rouge Tomate, Shang, and Abe & Arthur’s. What do I know? I love most of those joints. I was downstairs from Abe and Arthur’s last night, attending the Blackbook magazine November issue release bash at SL. I told everyone that the joint was named after me, and everyone protested. November is themed “The Protest Issue” and I wrote a piece for it about those “Shitshow” winners from Kenmare, Paul Sevigny and partner Nur Khan.
Sante D’orazio shot my pals with Don Hill, at Don Hill’s. Freida Pinto, the babe from Slumdog Millionaire, is on the cover. I don’t know what she is protesting about or who, so I’ll be reading my copy after this to find out.
I didn’t know too many people at the soiree. I don’t know how you get invited. I usually hear about BlackBook events from unrelated people, and call up protesting: “Hey! How come I wasn’t invited?” It’s invariably an “oversight” or something like that, but sometimes I feel like the black sheep of BlackBook. I kind of don’t mind that and will not protest. Maybe that should be on my business card. DJ Anna Cavazos and Patron tequila kept everyone from protesting anything. As I departed into the night, unaware of my eventual fate, I stopped by Abe and Arthur’s to see if it was, indeed, a shitshow, as Eater implied. It was packed and vibrant. I guess the crowd hadn’t heard about the nomination, or they showed up in protest. Somewhere in the night I imagined Nur giving Paul a high five.
I was on my way to the Blind Barber when I was miss-happed. My face, which earlier in the day was described by my potential television producer as one “made for radio” got even worse. Something about a tooth getting infected and the inner ear and all that made me look like Deniro’s Jake Lamotta, late in the Sugar Ray fight. I would have protested, but only my Amanda was on hand to get me much needed help. I have spent many a morning at Bellevue over the years. Sometimes I did something to me: fell off a ladder changing bulbs at my fab 80’s joint, Liquid Sky, a punch not ducked, or a bad meal from a late night pre-letter-rating restaurant. I always preferred the late great Saint Vincent’s Hospital—better crowd. Mostly, I was there for others who scuffled their way in or took something that eventually put them in an unconscious situation. Last night it was me, a dozen cuffed creatures of the night, and all sorts of miss-happing people. My Amanda was cruising cute doctors while I drifted into sleep from my medication. She liked the one who looked like Rob Lowe. I couldn’t protest.
According to my pal Dani Baum, Blind Barber was hot. It was hosted by stylelikeu.com, with my super chic friend Malcolm Harris hosting. Louis XIV DJed this happening. Dani was waiting for me along with stylelikeu editors Elisa Goodkind, and Lily Mandlebaum, but alas, I was a casualty. I wanted to go to the Royalton to visit the newly renovated 44, now called Mon Chouchou, where my old pal Lyle Derek is clearly bringing it. Last night was a party/dinner for Debbie Harry as she celebrates her new tour. I have known Lyle since the 90’s. I’d say he worked for me forever, but he would protest, and in the end the story would conclude with me working for him. The good promotional people are like that. They own everything they are part of, push it forward and make it work. It only works if it’s that way. Half the club “owners” in town don’t even own their own shirts, but that’s another article. Lyle is one of the best— taking events through the soup and nuts, making them super fun for the attending nuts. Over the years he has produced legendary events and weeklies. He gave me Joan Jett as well as Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Spa. He also did Ben Sherman’s first US fashion show for me, some early Vice Magazine events, and some events so unforgettable that no memory survives to talk about them.
He has done it all: doors, go go dancing, producing, and promoting. He put Courtney Love at Plaid, which ended up in all the papers as a mic stand somehow ended up attached to somebody’s face. I wonder if the dude went to Bellevue for that? He was behind that Squeezebox film about the long-running party at Don Hill’s. He told me yesterday that he will return home to Don Hill’s on November 21st with a new weekly called Dropout. He even has a clothing line called God Save New York. Coincidentally, when I went to Bellevue last night, my Amanda was sporting a GSNY hoodie. It’s all Sex Pistol font and fabulous. These days they sell at Ricky’s. He tells me Moby, Debbie, Karen Finley, ex-Sex Pistol Glen Matlock, and a gaggle of others sport his wares. The amazing Miss Guy will DJ Sundays. She was the Squeezebox spinner, and more fun than anyone, except maybe last night’s Bellevue crew. I don’t really miss them and I haven’t slept much or well. I would protest, but who would listen?
Photos by Zhanyi Jiang.