While you were sleeping last night, Lady Gaga and Jeff Koons were throwing an “artRave” involving an eight-foot-tall sculpture of naked Gaga modeled after the cover of her new album ARTPOP. Boats were involved, people were excited.
We left midtown and headed down the East River to an undisclosed location later revealed to be the Brooklyn Navy Yards. By the time we docked (and filed out at an excruciating pace) we were steeped in complimentary cider and gender-indifferent eyeliner. More →
What happens when you turn a classic biker clubhouse into a venue where hipsters mingle with Bushwick natives? Locust. Recently, this hush-hush locale off the JMZ has seen some of the area’s best performers, DJs, promoters and parties pass through each Thursday. The stripper stage is always leather-clad and stacked. Artists, rappers and club kids dance under the whir of bubble machines. Dice scatter across the bar while skate videos play on the monitors. Last week, an ex-convict turned magician taught me a quarter trick and a woman named Fish offered intoxicated but valuable life counsel. All nights beside Thursdays, however, Locust transforms back into a clubhouse (strictly) for Puerto Rican bikers and co. More →
It’s 3 a.m. at Passion Lounge, the heavily mirrored club on Broadway previously known as Angels, and the roving underground party known as Ultra Velvet is in full swing. Brooklyn rapper Dai Burger coos a line from her new single into the mic: “Soufflé, I could come on these bitches all day.” She’s iced in iridescent blue from head to transparent heel. Her audience is similarly attired in ensembles ranging from the futuristic to the obscene. As lasers spin, they share fish bowls, sipping an orgy of liquor from long straws. Passion’s towering security guards look on, confused. More →