Over the weekend and through the woods.
Your Perks: 1) A massive block party at Roberta’s. Worth the trip to Bushwick. 2) A place for you and a friend to watch Sunday football in comfort with pitchers, nachos and wings. 3) Two VIP tickets to a massive cocktail festival at the Bowery Hotel. One for you, one for someone you like.
It’s possible your bookshelf is missing that first-edition copy of The Metamorphosis to serve as the handle that opens your newly constructed secret room. If that’s the case, here’s where everyone who sells extremely rare books will be doing so. There may be other uses for this event as well.
Barbecue season ends when we say it ends. Actually, we have no authority over that, and we’d never want barbecues to end. Oh, here’s a 16-hour, all-night rooftop dance party that also happens to be a barbecue. Should probably check that out.
You’ve probably never met a Billy Reid suit you didn’t like. And there’s a good reason for that—they’re highly likable. But none of them has ever been made specifically for you, and that’s what’s happening now. Billy Reid, creating a suit, for you. About time.
We can’t tell you everything about this, sadly. But here: it’s a dinner where there’s never been a dinner before, where you and everyone else will be dressed like it’s exactly 1968. There will be singing ghosts and a gloriously strange after-party. Just trust us on this.
In SoHo: A gent from Sweetwater Social and a gent from Distilled have combined forces to bring you classic cocktails, foie gras ravioli and a live house band from a fictitious bon vivant of the ’60s named Mr. Jones. No relation to the Counting Crows guy.
