New Year’s Eve is for amateurs. Anyone can stand around Times Square waiting for a sparkly ball to drop while sipping Cook’s Champagne. However, as Emily Brill has taken upon herself to prove, not everyone can gain admission to The Eldridge and stand around sipping Armand de Brignac Champagne.
So, when a far better connected friend than I called this week to ask if I wanted to go to The Eldridge, I replied the way any sensible person would. “What about Bungalow 8?” I asked. “It’s hip again. Guest of a Guest says so.” Yes, I still go to Bungalow 8. I still go because I love it, and I will love it forever. It has a lot to do with the free Reese’s Pieces they give out.
“Guest of a Guest is lying,” my friend replied. “The Eldridge is basically the only place that isn’t completely terrible right now.” Given that it has been a few months since it opened, and the hype has mostly died down, I was a little skeptical.
But The Eldridge is, indeed, not completely terrible. In fact, it’s utterly charming. Honestly, The Eldridge had me at their fake book façade entryway. Of course there’s been some controversy over whether using an independent bookstore front motif is appropriate given the dwindling number of actual independent bookstores on the LES (http://vanishingnewyork.blogspot.com/2008/09/eldridgebooks_17.html) but frankly, I’m in favor of anything that makes books seem cool. By selecting the book front, I can only imagine that owner Matt Levine wants to communicate that his personally referred patrons are literate. I also have this dim hope that some underage Slovakian model will go there, see The Letters of Sigmund Freud in the window and be inspired to read it and it will change her life forever. Or, you know, The Weight Watcher’s Cookbook. Whichever.
The space is surprisingly small given the crowd, which perhaps explains the strict door policy. And the patrons do seem perfectly pleasant. I didn’t catch any celebrities - though it’s said that Whitney Port, Kate Moss and Kirsten Dunst are regulars – but perhaps it was an off night. Still, it might be noted that if Matt wants The Eldridge to be “hipster meets Vogue” then it would make sense to let in one or two authentic LES hipsters, in addition to Vogue’s It girls. Otherwise it’s really hard for the two to meet.
At least a few Eldridge patrons seem to be dressing like LES locals, which made my outfit seem completely idiotic in comparison. For the record, my black and gold mini-dress and glittering Louboutins would have been great had we been heading to Bungalow 8. That is because Bungalow 8 is all about creating a magical fantasy world wherein there are bungalows in West Chelsea. The Eldridge is seemingly more about promoting a realistic – if luxurious - version of Eldridge Street, wherein people wear T-shirts and jeans.
I admit, I did choose that particular outfit in large part because I had always heard that The Eldridge was a lot like GoldBar. Rather than applying that description to the ambience, I just took it to mean that The Eldridge used a lot of gold in their decorating scheme. This is kind of true – the hand stamped gold floors are lovely, and there do seem to be a lot of gold flakes floating around in drinks. (For the number of places incorporating these lately you would think that gold flakes would taste like magic and heaven. They don’t. They taste kind of like paper.) However, the décor still comes off as masculine – more Mad Men than Gossip Girl. People seem particularly inclined to point out the wall of gold plated Armand de Brignac Champagne bottles famous for appearing in Jay Z’s music video “Show Me What You Got.”
Those bottles may not have been for drinking, but The Eldridge doesn’t want for cocktails. People have been outraged about the $32 drinks, but at least the bartenders try to give you your money’s worth. (Truth be told, I never quite felt that the $20 cocktails at the Rose Bar really lived up to their reputation.) I sampled The Eldridge cocktail, which is a delightful blend of p.i.n.k. vodka, lychee, Armand de Brignac Champagne, passion fruit seeds, simple syrup and, of course, gold flakes.
Still, though the drinks go down beautifully, there’s something about The Eldridge that leaves a bit of a funny taste in one’s mouth. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that you have to walk through a housing project before you can drink your gold flake infused beverage. Perhaps it’s the fact that everyone has made a great point of the notion The Eldridge isn’t relying on bottle service. Ostensibly, that’s because they don’t want people buying their way in, but it’s probably also because the finance guys who used to buy bottle service aren’t in a position to do so anymore. Even the fashions seemed to reflect a more somber national mood.
Obviously, those are the realities of the time we’re living in. But – perhaps despicably – when I go out, I want to forget about the current economic crisis. I want to stand at the bar without listening to every single person buying a $32 cocktail making a joke about the recession. I also want to forget the winter. I want to go back to a simpler time. I want palm trees. Palm trees, and cheesy 80’s music. Maybe a grilled cheese sandwich. A grilled cheese sandwich and some free drugstore candy.
I ended the night in a cab on the way to Bungalow 8.
