Here, on this rainy February day, we'd like to take the road less traveled.
We'd like to point you in the direction of a rooftop. Before you run for your nearest rathskeller, let us say this: you need this. You need to gaze out upon the buildings. You need a little perspective.
Oh, and there's a retractable roof...
Introducing Upstairs, a little stunner of a lounge, perched atop Midtown's unassuming Kimberly Hotel, providing the backdrop to your next gin-fueled conquest, booking private parties now, opening to the public soon.
Upstairs is one of those places that lets you look upon the grandeur of Midtown and remember why you chose to be a titan of industry in this particular town (it wasn't really a choice, actually).
With a group of co-workers or a date in tow, you'll tell the elevator operator to head for the penthouse (okay, you'll just press a button). Stepping out among potted flowers and black wicker furniture, beneath a crisscross of exposed lightbulbs strung overhead, you'll realize you've just entered the sort of garden party that rarely happens within view of the Chrysler Building.
In this realm of thin air and stiff Manhattans, you'll sashay over to the outdoor smokers' patio and warm yourself by the fire. Or seek respite in the closed-off library nook (with its own bar), the sort of place Trump and Bloomberg might be found sipping good brandy and blowing smoke rings.
When they're not combing and governing.
We'd like to point you in the direction of a rooftop. Before you run for your nearest rathskeller, let us say this: you need this. You need to gaze out upon the buildings. You need a little perspective.
Oh, and there's a retractable roof...
Introducing Upstairs, a little stunner of a lounge, perched atop Midtown's unassuming Kimberly Hotel, providing the backdrop to your next gin-fueled conquest, booking private parties now, opening to the public soon.
Upstairs is one of those places that lets you look upon the grandeur of Midtown and remember why you chose to be a titan of industry in this particular town (it wasn't really a choice, actually).
With a group of co-workers or a date in tow, you'll tell the elevator operator to head for the penthouse (okay, you'll just press a button). Stepping out among potted flowers and black wicker furniture, beneath a crisscross of exposed lightbulbs strung overhead, you'll realize you've just entered the sort of garden party that rarely happens within view of the Chrysler Building.
In this realm of thin air and stiff Manhattans, you'll sashay over to the outdoor smokers' patio and warm yourself by the fire. Or seek respite in the closed-off library nook (with its own bar), the sort of place Trump and Bloomberg might be found sipping good brandy and blowing smoke rings.
When they're not combing and governing.
