It's the logical evolution, really: after they put iPods in the first class lounges, Virgin Airlines is installing inflight hypnotherapists on the planes themselves. According to their press release of today, hypnosis can make you believe the flight is taking five minutes, or that you're sitting next to Nigella Lawson or Brad Pitt.
A correction, regarding this morning's discussion of the opening of Table 50, from a reader: "Table 50 is a slickly designed 'subterranean lounge' orchestrated by Robert McKinley (PM). Not a diner. The 'overpriced diner' would be Corner Shop, which is located above the lounge." Duly noted. I'll remember to correctly describe Tara Reid's favorite potential puking places in the future. Because I really, really, give two shits.
Virgin Airlines is now hooking up front-of-the-plane passengers with iPods in their airport lounges. Besides the obvious questions — such as, "Why aren't rich people's assistants properly managing their own iPods for them?" — Boing Boing has a few queries:
Little Damita Jo's record release party last night sounds like it was pretty dreaded. Ms. Jackson needs to spend a week at the Courtney Love School for Wayward Hos.
Today's New York mag counts up the dead bodies over at NYU. We'd rather look on the bright side: an epidemic of "contagious" suicide at NYU can only result in more affordable housing in the East Village.
Something about Amanda Hesser's NYT review of Spice Market today sent blogger Eurotrash into a foaming frenzy of paragraph-by-paragraph rage:
NYT's food critic Amanda Hesser's March 7th trip to Jean-Georges' Spice Market — presumably one of many — finally results in a review. A diner at the restaurant on that Sunday night reports that "The staff was all in a tizzy because Amanda Hesser was there reviewing the place. Guess she doesn't venture out in elaborate disguises a la Ruth Reichl. The maitre'd kept us waiting for fifteen fucking minutes while they tended to her!" Hesser says:
Vittles Vamp, the anonymous online restaurant reviewer, hits Jean-George's Spice Market and is harassed by an overly-obsequious waitress:
The Marquee gives it up for the new "high-end" Tommy Hilfiger "collection," H Hilfiger. Saddest report: "Lance Bass is much shorter than I imagined, and was accompanied by a cute blonde girl with a trucker hat (surprise) on." In more excruciating detail:
We couldn't make it to fun-loving society photographer Patrick McMullan's annual St. Patrick's day party because we didn't care enough to leave the apartment — although we did hear a rumor that his contract with New York mag might have a looming expiration date. But a reader did trudge through the slush to attend, and offers this terrifying report:
We hear that the MTV Networks cafeteria at 1515 Broadway is suffering from an employee strike. Rumors have it that cafeteria workers are forming a human chain on the seventh floor, and MTV workers are shouting "We want food!" and crossing the picket line like the over-privileged hipster idiots that they are.
Cellcam shot of the lovely view of Soho House's roofdeck, taken from the Hotel Gansevoort's pool area. If only cellcams came with telephoto lenses, we could all be selling pictures to Us Weekly come swimsuit season.
Today's the official opening day for the Gansevoort Hotel, at 9th and 13th Street. How does it stack up with its neighbor, Soho House?
More living-in-the-80's-redux proof: A dinner reservation at Masa, the new alleged-hotness at the Time Warner Center, comes with a contractual agreement nastier than the one that accompanied the Jayson Blair book. They'll hit you with a $100 penalty if you skip your dinner reservation. Time Out NY also points out that OpenTable, the reservations software, is being widely used to track troublesome and no-show diners. Fuck with the reservationists anywhere, and you'll never get a table in this town again.
Don't Mess with the Restaurateur [New Yorkish]
It used to be you'd have to screw — excuse me, shag — someone in the bathroom to get a disease at Soho House. Fortunately, you no longer have to work that hard: all you have to do now is get on their member's email list for some free virus. Too bad they can't email us cocaine and model-chasers.
There's a rumor about that a certain heavily-Eastern-European-populated bar, possibly located at Canal and Broadway— which allegedly counts among its dreamy features illegal smoking, dancing without a cabaret license, an inability to recognize 4 a.m. on the clocks, and most probably a complete lack of fire exits — may have gotten busted by the City this weekend. Any reports on the status of this last bastion of Manhattan hedonism are welcomed.
The new Gotham mag says online dating is out and pick-up lines are in. (Hey, they gotta fill the pages between the party pics with some kind of words.) Tia, over at Night in the Big City, takes us through some recent pickup lines she's been subjected to:
A reader writes in after a night at Balthazar:
Manhattan User's Guide rips the Columbus Circle Time Warner Mall a new one:
A bajillion celebrities and "celebrities" showed up at the grand opening of the Time Warner Center last night at Columbus Circle. Despite the tuxedos and champagne, they all simultaneously realized that they'd been tricked into attending the opening of A TACKY MALL. (I wonder what gave it away? The DMV Express? The Galaga machines? The Orange Julius stand?)
