< topography - Tribeca

  

Ice
Canal @ Washington
Tribeca
Manhattan
It's somehow significant that this essentially white-colored bar has its own website, but kittlings, I should hope you won't sound out from this a condemnation. Rather the intoxicating interior—white, white, white—achieved with intoxicating efficiency, the swell music from the discrete DJ booth, the gorgeous blue light of the bar proper, the affability of tender and waitress, the relatively thin crowd of patrons, and the location, oh, God, the location! all make for an entirely pleasant, if uni-thematic experience, until, that is, you fork over your eight bucks for the pretty drink. How long will it take for this place to be totally overrun by the too-hip? [After a handful of returns to this remote oasice, twice now for birthdays, my earlier account stands in little need of revision. And the question of Ice's being overrun stands as well, since I have yet to gamble a Friday or Saturday away to this place. Let's review: The drinks are poured strong, so if you're cash-healthy that 8$ price tag may not sting enough to drive you away; 6, however, for a bottle of Bud is absolutely unacceptable! Fortunately the weeknight staff is happy, "down to earth," open for suggestions; And it was only on my last visit that I properly appreciated the hypnotic laser-sphere spinning out messages like "DRINK MORE A LOT MORE FEEL THE BUZZ FEEL THE LOVE," which sounds cheesy, I know; Wait until you see the bathroom.] { MisterDasein 2/9/00: Well, the white on white is well done when you consider how cheaply it was made. As mentioned, the prices are silly. A warning: when the DJ is in absentia the bartender, under the iron hand of the misinformed owner, plays horrendous cheapo techno CDs. It is possible to throw an opinion onto the changer, but unless you bring your own plastic you're in for a bit of a rough time. Bonus: sunflower seeds (white) in bowls (white) on many tables.} [Ice has yet to be overrun by fools, Friday or not, but maybe that's because it's too damned expensive. Or maybe it's  underrun by fools. Who can stay long enough to find out for sure? Despite a doormanned entrance, I had the distinct impression that my hair was, metaphorically at least, white, which makes a great deal of sense inside this bar. Having some young buck attempting to break the bathroom door down (gee, bathrooms have locks?!) reinforced this impression.] { Eclipse the Gum 1/17/01: Yup, great bartenders. Period. Other than that...Icka! All-white everything? First out, I'm finding handprints and hairstains. It was way too crowded for the location/offerings/prices/Thursday night-dom. The music was a wash of programmed beat offal. Only if I were from Germany, would I go back.}

Nancy Whiskey
Lispenard @ West Broadway
Tribeca
Manhattan
Inexpensive and sweltering (no AC), Nancy Whiskey appears to be a hangout for postal workers and union types, who pack it in at the end of the day, tipping their loose change. [With PK1 and Kitten I flee Toad, errather, we bail out on our lengthy conversation about genetic clones and cloning and scoot down to Nancy Whiskey. When? I have no idea. An icy Wednesday night. Advanced schizoid birthday behavior. Alogic. The tender, slightly hunched, bespectacled, bearded, of the Harley Davidson variety, is a delight, shuffling between us and the other utterly random patrons. Who? Some NYUey frattypes and some older, getting-laid types. In the mix. PK1 slots the entire miseducation of Ms. Hill, and I just get drunker and drunker. The sugar from Kitten's jelly beans goes straight to my head and shots are proposed. Or forced. I think. Why?] { gray-Neo and e-Lux 4/28/01: A lot of people will tell you that this kind of bar is depressing, but that's because they're not really drinkers, see? The bartender the night we were there on the night we returned to the city from a trip, was singing and silly and serious seller of liquor and beer and took care of us really well. In the long run the grime, dirt, dust and randomness of this place makes it pleasant. We're coming back soon!}

anotherroom
West Broadway, N of Liquor Store
Tribeca
Manhattan
[Eh, strictly beer and wine, so despite reasonable costs, a little too California, well, California before They kicked out the smokers—something like the drinky-version of Zen Palate (and I know, kittling, that sounds pretty grim). You'll still have to go (make it, say, a Sunday evening) for a look at the ultramodern seating, décor, lights! California über alles!] [Cf. The Other Room]

No Moore
West Broadway @ North Moore
Tribeca
Manhattan
I couldn't possibly claim that Tribeca is yuppie free, to the contrary, but this is ridiculous!

Liquor Store
West Broadway @ White
Tribeca
Manhattan
I've been but once, but I always envy those patrons sitting at the outside tables along West Broadway. [Been back, and my feeling is that, between the after-work and the out-for-the-night crowds, a space opens up. What to do with that space still puzzles me.] [Now I know, re-call, that it is not a question of making something of space but of letting space make something of you. The Liquor Store will, if you remain standing.] [Now I am puzzled again by LS, of which my estimation ticks off and on and off. People, it seems, are wont to become very drunk here, but I'm falling off my stool for entirely other reasons.] [Classic. I cannot decide whether the seesaw pattern forming in my visits to LS is my doing or whether there is something in the wood and glass of this popular establishment producing the pattern without my intervention. Dialectics. Every other time I go is magic; every other time I go is ho-hum. And now that the pattern has been articulated, it will no doubt fall apart, or will this falling apart be synthetic? The figure is irony, kittlings, for those of us romantics burnt by Hegel's shadow.] { gray-Neo and e-Lux 6/4/00: Just like most places during the week there aren't a lot of people here. Though we've noticed many couples go to Liquor Store, plus regulars...where else you going to get a beer if you live in Tribeca? The tap has a cool little metal king guy holding a mug of beer. You can stare at that if you get bored of watching the weekend characters going in and out of No Moore.} [Le service est sans défaut!] [I think it's Henry VIII.] [!] [!] [(Henry VIII? S****** says, "What about a Highland patron of ale?" Hm. The saint who protects thieves?) Discussion of the tap ornament fades, though, into Good Love among the best of friends and good conversations that burn in memory a limpid blue, their contents gone, the feeling from which they were formed glowing there still. In a moment of reflection, or of vanity, I faithlessly reached for my camera, but the flash refused to work, as though itself aware of its poverty before the cerulean radiance warming me now.] [Liquor Store, O, Liquor Store, I always want more, more of what I came here for, but I'll walk out the door (and hopefully before I become a bore. PS—You might have to remind me. Sorry.)] [My nightcap is served by a smiling Audrey Hepburn, who spends most of her time keeping costumed frattypes in line. I discuss the merits of Nabokov, youth, Svevo, and sex with an Italian couple who proceed to argue whether they would have struck up a conversation with me if I were ugly. Our relative ages are interpreted: I could be their son. A mad thought takes possession of me. I am their son.] [!] [How PK1 and I found seats on an unseasonably warm Friday night is a mystery. We were joined soon enough by H*****, her friends, and D**, which added warmth to warmth. The crowd was leaning back, enjoying the picture of West Broadway in such an honorable way that I nearly forgot its new nickname, Chest Broadway...it is Fashion Week after all, no? So I weave down Canal, putting off the moment when I will hop a cab over the Manhattan for a bubble bath in Brooklyn.] [!] [No Moore is no more? Pity. I liked watching its patrons from the comfort of the Liquor Store.] [The attitude of the men who walk in when S****** is tending suggests that they misunderstood the bar's name: lick her store?]

Knitting Factory (downstairs)
Leonard, Broadway/Church
Tribeca
Manhattan
Don't take any stationary. It's not something to write home about, but it can be a swell place to cool your heels while waiting for a KF event. Hell, it might even be a swell place to grab a drink after a KF event.

Lush
Duane, Broadway/West Broadway
Tribeca
Manhattan
Lush, ah, Lush, which is lush. It's always a little packed at Lush, but the tenders are unusually friendly for this type of DJ-ed, just over the middle-of-the-hip range club. There's a chance you'll get the rope at the door, but, sometimes, the pain is productive. Check out the circular Bourbon Room in the back, kittlings; it's addictive.

Racoon Lodge
Warren @ West Broadway
Tribeca
Manhattan
[It's always struck me that more or less all of the bars close to City Hall are dives, as They say; in Tribeca an inverse proportion: the farther away from City Hall you get, the more clean and respectable the bar? The Lodge, affordable and featuring a pleasant fireplace nook area in the back, probably packs out on the weekends; but on pro-nights the patrons are refreshingly diverse, and those playing pool are devilishly good.]

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