AMNH, new york is so small, joseph leonard (redux), passion pit, rodarte
the museum of natural history does these "one step beyond" programs on first fridays. a dance party in their planetarium. it was hipster central. someone started smoking in the little pod-like space show that hovers above the main floor. animal collective was djing. dylan ratigan was there looking pretty tool-ish. wine bar after where we promptly got approached by an older ugly man. (i can't ever go out with erika without some random dude coming up to hit on us. she's tall with red hair and a rockin' body and older men LOVE her.) ugly man says, "now what are two beautiful women doing sitting here alone when you could be chatting with two men?" my feministic flares shot off and just before i went into a rant about "why wouldn't women just enjoy each others company and what makes you think that they can't have a good time without men being involved" i hear erika say, "have you ever met a lesbian? we're lesbians. we're not interested in talking to men." and old ugly kind of stuttered that that was okay and to have a lovely evening.
had to attend a birthday party at a bleecker st. NYU bar. the kind of fratty place i usually steer clear of. i get there and the birthday girl's boyfriend went to law school with me and some of his friends from law school were there. all huge assholes. mech. also in the bar were guys who play basketball with my friend joyce at a super fancy gym. she is, beyond a doubt, a treasure trove of straight single men. the problem with most of them is that they have too much money so suffer from "i think i should have whatever i want, whenever i want it" syndrome. they're generous with their money but if they buy you a beer, they think they have the right to kind of grab and take possession of you if that's what they want. i don't really play by those rules. the one really hot guy in the group was tall with a pageboy cap. as i'm talking to him his friend comes over, "dude, how much does she look like diana?" "i know man, it's kind of freaking me out." diana = hot man's ex girlfriend. game over.
after the party, erika and i hit up a really good taco truck on 6th ave and chilled on her boyfriend's couch watching the rest of the football game and then some SNL. my arm was twisted into a sleepover since erika and i also had brunch plans the next morning. and HOLY HELL is their couch comfortable. LOVE. we slept in and i cuddled with the nytimes crossword for the morning, warm and cozy. got a text from my roommate that our heat and hot water were out (again).
(and quick aside to mention that it was also out again this morning and that if i were in the girl scouts i'd certainly have earned my laura ingalls wilder badge or something for showering using three big pots of warm water straight from the stove. this is CRAZY. and there's nothing we can really do about it until someone dies from the cold in our building. 311 comes by a few days later and sometimes the heat is back on by then, other times it's not. to get any kind of response from the mgt co we'd have to withhold rent and let them sue us for it which puts dings in our credit scores. we can't win.)
brunch at joseph leonard where i was immediately recognized by the bartender, a cherubic madison, WI native, as "that girl who said that the brussels sprouts changed [her] life." i am INDEED that girl. and not ashamed of it! this bartender is awesome. he used to give bike tours of versailles and can name every king of france back some four centuries. on top of making a killer bloody mary (with the ever important beer chaser that cuts the tart/spicy with some cool, crisp, almost sweetness) he's an excellent raconteur. this time he told us about his uncle frank who opened up for the jackson five once at a concert in gary indiana. there's actually a poster of uncle frank, shirtless, with an accordion advertising the concert. AWESOME. the same uncle frank also interrupted a family wedding once, accordion in arms to rant about the fact that young people dont know anything about love. uncle frank sounds amazing. we got the hash browns which were good but greasier than i'd have liked.
passion pit last night was amazing. the first opener was comprized of three men so skinny that they almost disappeared when they turned sideways. the "singer" was bird-like and weird and kept throwing things on the ground and kind of convulsing. at first we thought their name was bronze (i heard brahms). then we though bronx. we were like old people. i mean, we literally WERE old people compared to the crowd. but to see us saying, "what? what did he say? did he say bronze? like third place?" "no, i think he said brahms." "what" "brahms. like johannes." "oh." second opener walks out and they are large and in charge and wearing sequins and lots of glitter on their face. julie says, "wait! that's cara!" and it turns out she's friends with two members of the band. they are tragedy: the tri-state's best bee gees heavy metal tribute band. they were hilarious and brazen. the lead singer kept saying, "you're welcome new york!" and finished their first song with, "no need for applause. we know we were awesome!" all the while some weird guy in a windbreaker gets on stage, takes off his pants and just kind of runs around, dancing. i wondered whether the staff didn't pull him down because the band seemed okay with him. at the end, he came out in a wrestling outfit and was introduced as the band's personal trainer.
passion pit gives a good concert. they're friendly, modest and energetic. they have a lot of catchy songs with recognizable intros so people can easily go wild at the first two notes. the hooks are easily remembered and the whole place sang along to every chorus as they jumped up and down, arms flailing up in the air. people were happy to be there.
two dorky guys were standing in front of us on the ground level (we had a perch up a few steps and against a railing near the bar, the perfect spot). julie says, "i just overheard that guy say, 'i'm not going to put all my eggs in a meg ryan basket.' " we debated what that meant and, most importantly whether they were gay. do straight guys talk about meg ryan? julie decided they were on a date because they seemed to be trying to impress each other and look cool for each other. then halfway through the concert she hears a young girl start talking to one of the guys. "i'm 17, i'm in high school. how old are you?" "i'm a little older" "what, 18? 19?" "i'm 19." WHAT?! this guy, who couldn't have been younger than 25 was trying to pass himself off as a 19 year old to get some high school ass. that is just pathetic! later she looks at him and we hear her say, "high school is hard, isn't it?" and the guy nods in agreement. what losers.
on my random day off, after the del posto lunch, i walked over to anthropologie and actually had a very relaxed browsing session amongst the sale items. i'm what you'd call a competitive shopper. my arrival at a store starts a hunt and i'm usually pretty ruthless in the racks. i'm not aggressive with other people but i go about it like a drill seargent inspecting troops. my machine-like relfexes paging through hangar after hanger, making split second judments about whether i pick up the article or not. a scan for stains/tears. analysis of color, fabric, style. i'd told myself i wasn't buying anything so there was no pressure to FIND THE DEALS. it made shopping more of a pleasant experience than stressful one.
from the new yorker: "Rodarte is the fashion equivalent of a Basquiat," she says, quoting a writer for the New York Observer. "People in the know really love it, but to everyone else it's inscrutable or a little bit ugly." that's EXACTLY how i feel about basquiat. i just don't get him. i've never gotten it. so i suppose that makes me someone that's not in the know. but here's the twist: i have a not-so-small obsession with rodarte. their S/S09 line gave me lovesick pangs. i want everything to be off-kiltered knit. i still dream about that strappy leather jacket.