You've been very patient.
Because it's been nearly a year since the Beatrice Inn shut its doors. And in that time you've been had...you've been hoodwinked, bamboozled and led astray by nefarious rumors of the next hot spark of a party.
Well, the patience has paid off. And material proof is in order...
We present, for your long-awaited pleasure, the first shots of Kenmare: now open for private events and bringing you one step closer to the mythical underground party mecca that is the stuff of your hazy, fading nightlife recent past.
Even now, it approaches shrouded in secrecy, but you should know that it boasts an impressive pedigree: Beatrice impresario Paul Sevigny, Nur Khan of the Rose Bar and comfort food genius Joey Campanaro—he of the Little Owl and Gravy Meatball Sliders.
Think of Kenmare as a completely unnecessary (in the same way that scotch isn't technically necessary) addition to an already bursting square inch of Nolita nightlife: Mexican dungeon dining at La Esquina, Cafe Select's back room, Southside's basement dance parties.
It may look like any gilded, dimly lit speakeasy diner at first, but you'll descend into a cavernous underground space decked with red leather banquettes and mottled stone columns that look like they were taken from an Egyptian tomb (dance like an Egyptian). In that spare space, amid a swarm of statuesque scenesters, you'll furnish your own mayhem and continue the dear departed virtues of inhibition-shedding and sanctioned illicitness.
Or unsanctioned: your call.
Because it's been nearly a year since the Beatrice Inn shut its doors. And in that time you've been had...you've been hoodwinked, bamboozled and led astray by nefarious rumors of the next hot spark of a party.
Well, the patience has paid off. And material proof is in order...
We present, for your long-awaited pleasure, the first shots of Kenmare: now open for private events and bringing you one step closer to the mythical underground party mecca that is the stuff of your hazy, fading nightlife recent past.
Even now, it approaches shrouded in secrecy, but you should know that it boasts an impressive pedigree: Beatrice impresario Paul Sevigny, Nur Khan of the Rose Bar and comfort food genius Joey Campanaro—he of the Little Owl and Gravy Meatball Sliders.
Think of Kenmare as a completely unnecessary (in the same way that scotch isn't technically necessary) addition to an already bursting square inch of Nolita nightlife: Mexican dungeon dining at La Esquina, Cafe Select's back room, Southside's basement dance parties.
It may look like any gilded, dimly lit speakeasy diner at first, but you'll descend into a cavernous underground space decked with red leather banquettes and mottled stone columns that look like they were taken from an Egyptian tomb (dance like an Egyptian). In that spare space, amid a swarm of statuesque scenesters, you'll furnish your own mayhem and continue the dear departed virtues of inhibition-shedding and sanctioned illicitness.
Or unsanctioned: your call.
