There’s a certain kind of LA glory.
The kind that can only be found by winning a 3am ping-pong tournament, high-fiving Susan Sarandon and then eating a mac-and-cheese ball.
Gentlemen and ladies, today is that kind of glorious day.
Presenting your exclusive first look inside SPiN Standard, Downtown’s splendid new hall of ping-pong, cocktails and solidified cheesy pasta that just so happens to be co-owned by Ms. Sarandon herself, now open.
It starts with an escalator. You’re in the Standard hotel, going from that cavernous lobby up to the second floor. What awaits you is a check-in desk that’s the gateway to two distinct spaces. Both rightfully devoted to ping-pong majesty.
Go right: you’ll see rows of ping-pong tables in a well-appointed spread, with sofas and mirrored columns and pretty stunning views littered about. You’ll see sprightly ball girls keeping everything moving. You’ll see bartenders in polos and sweatbands. You’ll drink a Penolte Libre (rum, Coca-Cola syrup, chili pepper and star anise). You’ll... do what you came here to do. Play some damn table tennis.
Or you’ll go left. Into the private room, which is more sleek. More subdued, with gleaming black floors. Totally suitable for ping-pong parties best kept behind closed doors.
The ping-pong paparazzi are ruthless.
The kind that can only be found by winning a 3am ping-pong tournament, high-fiving Susan Sarandon and then eating a mac-and-cheese ball.
Gentlemen and ladies, today is that kind of glorious day.
Presenting your exclusive first look inside SPiN Standard, Downtown’s splendid new hall of ping-pong, cocktails and solidified cheesy pasta that just so happens to be co-owned by Ms. Sarandon herself, now open.
It starts with an escalator. You’re in the Standard hotel, going from that cavernous lobby up to the second floor. What awaits you is a check-in desk that’s the gateway to two distinct spaces. Both rightfully devoted to ping-pong majesty.
Go right: you’ll see rows of ping-pong tables in a well-appointed spread, with sofas and mirrored columns and pretty stunning views littered about. You’ll see sprightly ball girls keeping everything moving. You’ll see bartenders in polos and sweatbands. You’ll drink a Penolte Libre (rum, Coca-Cola syrup, chili pepper and star anise). You’ll... do what you came here to do. Play some damn table tennis.
Or you’ll go left. Into the private room, which is more sleek. More subdued, with gleaming black floors. Totally suitable for ping-pong parties best kept behind closed doors.
The ping-pong paparazzi are ruthless.
