Let's have a little fun.
Let's start with a black door on an abandoned stretch of way west 21st Street.
Let's bring in some big guns from food (Todd English) and nightlife (the brain trust from Norwood, the old Lotus and Greenhouse) and let them run wild.
And just for a laugh, let's make the entire place look like the inside of a multicolored disco ball.
Welcome to the explosive, Technicolor world of Juliet, a new mind-bender of a restaurant and lounge, opening this Friday and accepting reservations now.
First off, this is not exactly the kind restaurant you're going to take your parents—unless of course your parents are up for dining in a gaudy playpen that would feel cozy to Russian billionaires, Middle Eastern playboys and the Mad Hatter. Everything in the smallish space is reflective and mirrored, from the disco-ball-tiled floor and walls, to the geometric reflective ceiling and mirror-covered columns.
You'll want to come with a large group of movers (and maybe a few shakers)—the plush blue booths and electric-blue tables are built for parties of up to 15—and get down to sharing a few Mediterranean plates (mezes, skewers, shawarmas) before things start to get too riled up.
And then, around midnight, the night will gradually sink into late night and you might find yourself in a warped disco cocoon where bottle service is thriving, booths are filled with packs of ferocious fashionistas and the raised VIP lounge turns into a wild, spontaneous dance rumpus.
Which is the best kind of dance rumpus.
Let's start with a black door on an abandoned stretch of way west 21st Street.
Let's bring in some big guns from food (Todd English) and nightlife (the brain trust from Norwood, the old Lotus and Greenhouse) and let them run wild.
And just for a laugh, let's make the entire place look like the inside of a multicolored disco ball.
Welcome to the explosive, Technicolor world of Juliet, a new mind-bender of a restaurant and lounge, opening this Friday and accepting reservations now.
First off, this is not exactly the kind restaurant you're going to take your parents—unless of course your parents are up for dining in a gaudy playpen that would feel cozy to Russian billionaires, Middle Eastern playboys and the Mad Hatter. Everything in the smallish space is reflective and mirrored, from the disco-ball-tiled floor and walls, to the geometric reflective ceiling and mirror-covered columns.
You'll want to come with a large group of movers (and maybe a few shakers)—the plush blue booths and electric-blue tables are built for parties of up to 15—and get down to sharing a few Mediterranean plates (mezes, skewers, shawarmas) before things start to get too riled up.
And then, around midnight, the night will gradually sink into late night and you might find yourself in a warped disco cocoon where bottle service is thriving, booths are filled with packs of ferocious fashionistas and the raised VIP lounge turns into a wild, spontaneous dance rumpus.
Which is the best kind of dance rumpus.
