Posts by Daniel Maurer:
Remember the floating pool that garnered a boatful of attention when it was proposed by some friends way back in 2011? Since then it has become one of those things things, like the Lowline, draws inevitable responses of: “Oh yeaaah, whatever happened to that?” Turns out the folks at +Pool are still trying to make their dream of swimming in the East River a reality, and now they’ve got the support of not just Neil Patrick Harris but also Heineken, the same folks who got behind James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem’s quixotic quest to symphonize the subway turnstiles. Together, they’ve all released a new mini doc and VR promo, with Harris as narrator, that allows you to plunge into a virtual version of the plus-shaped pool.
As you can see here, the pool offers of a good number of daybeds for lounging and canoodling, or just catching up on the New Yorker now that they’re throwing the word “cock” around.
Most of New York City’s remaining pay phones are just there to be pissed on, but this one is for people who are pissed off. The Standard, High Line has installed a custom phone booth that connects users with their local elected officials. Ring Your Rep, as the project is called, can now be found on the hotel’s plaza, in the Meatpacking District. That’s right, the Meatpacking District. Just imagine how many “u up?” calls Chucky Schumer is about to get.
Don’t pour out that sangria just yet.
Last week, we brought word that Francisco’s Centro Vasco had suddenly closed after 38 years in Chelsea, bringing down the curtains on one of the city’s remaining old-school Spanish spots. A note on the door informed customers that the closure would be permanent, and owner Javier Quintans told DNAinfo that he planned to sell the restaurant space and the building. The obligatory Jeremiah’s Vanishing eulogy followed.
While the United States ratcheted up sanctions on Russia, a crowd of Russians and Americans alike came together on a Williamsburg rooftop last night to participate in the most universal of pastimes: staring at highway wrecks.
At the Rooftop Films screening of The Road Movie, bartenders poured so-called Russian Road Kills. The drink was a cheeky nod to Dmitrii Kalashnikov’s film, which gathers over an hour of Russian dashboard cam footage, running the gamut from horrifying collisions to car-on-bear chases to negotiations with roadside prostitutes (no, pee play was not discussed). The footage that appears in the film had previously been posted online, so watching it strung together with minimal editing was something akin to disappearing down a YouTube wormhole on a lazy Sunday. Even the breathtaking view from the William Vale’s rooftop was no competition for the surreal landscapes on screen: apocalyptic forest fires, harrowing snowstorms, and comets shooting over sepia-toned cityscapes.
Now that Fire Island is the subject of a TV series that’s been described, albeit lovingly, as “guilty-pleasure reality filth,” you have to wonder whether Fire Island will do for the quiet little islands what Jersey Shore did for Seaside Heights. Which is to say, bring a wave of unwanted attention. Will one still find enchantment in the Sunken Forest? Will we still experience boardwalk bliss amidst the chic Horace Gifford homes of The Pines? What about Cherry Grove’s famous tea dances? Will all the cute little deer gnawing on bamboo be scared off by double-decker tour buses? Probably not, since cars aren’t allowed on the Island– but who knows, we might be seeing double-decker Radio Flyers.
Ice cream sandwiches are officially a trend in the East Village. Just days after Gelarto’s opening, Stuffed Ice Cream is serving up what they call “cruffs”— a word combining ice “cream” and “stuffed.” The specialty here? Glazed donuts that are made in-house, stuffed with homemade ice cream, heated up before serving so that the donut is warm while the ice cream remains cold, and encrusted with the topping of your choice.
Panorama returned for its second year, bringing a massive crowd to Randall’s Island for a maze of interactive tech installations, a trippy video dome, food vendors, a pop-up record store by Rough Trade, a ball pit by Macy’s(?), and, oh yeah, an eclectic array of live music. This year’s headliners ran the gamut from soulful crooners Frank Ocean and Solange on Friday to dance-rock heavies Tame Impala on Saturday to Lollapalooza throwbacks A Tribe Called Quest and Nine Inch Nails on Sunday. In between, highlights included Alt-J with an awesome stage show, French electronic rock duo Justice with a set that blew the power out Beyonce Super Bowl-style, and the Parlor stage, which brought bone-rattling Funktion-1 sound to New York dance acts like Tim Sweeney and Mister Saturday Night.
Ian Schrager’s Public Hotel opened on Chrystie Street last month with a Patti Smith performance in its basement club, Public Arts. Since then, the venue, which modestly bills itself as “the first new idea since [Schrager’s] Studio 54 forty years ago,” has hosted performers like Slick Rick as well as the “late-night hot, sweaty dancing” it promised on its webpage. But we haven’t heard all that much about the hotel’s rooftop bar.
It’s officially ice cream sandwich season, meaning everything from the donut ice cream sandwich at Peter Pan to the babka ice cream sandwich at Russ & Daughters. And now there’s a new one in the mix: Turin-born Italian gelato brand Gelarto has opened a shop on the corner of Avenue A and East 9th, and they’re serving up ice cream sandwiches made with brioche buns.