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NIGHTLIFE

LE BARONPOCOLYPSE

Andre.

THE FRENCH ARE COMING: New York City’s Nightlife Salvation (Maybe, Possibly) Begins Tonight With Rumored Opening of Le Baron

The arrival of Andre Sariva's New York outpost of Le Baron—the most exclusive nightclubs in the world that you're only getting into if you're, like, one of the owners or friends with Stefon—has been waited by those who get off on velvet-rope-rejection-masochism with the eagerness of people who wait for nightclubs for two years at a time. Which is to say: Quite a bit.

As Eater New York's Scott Solish reports, it is supposedly opening this weekend. Read More

FRENCH GUYS

Andre.

Le Baron, New York City’s Most Anticipated Nightclub Basically Ever, is En Route

French nightlife impresario Andre Saraiva’s Le Baron—with respective locations in Paris and Tokyo, easily two of the most exclusive nightlife spots in the known universe, the likes of which you will never see the inside of—has been anticipated as the messanic salvation of New York City nightlife. Especially ever since word of its stateside arrival was confirmed...in March 2010. Read More

Nightlife

Courtesy W Hotel.

Mick Rock Shows Off His Pretty, Pretty Pictures at the W

Remember that great Sean John ad Mark Ronson was in 10 years ago? The Observer loved that ad. Sure we could have asked the producer whether married life had changed him,  or “what’s next,” but all we really wanted to know was whether it was P. Diddy’s idea or his to let the toothpick dangle so lazily in that print advertisement we once saw ages ago in VIBE. And as electronic rockers Phantogram left the stage of Symmetry Live—the W New York-Downtown’s music concert series—we asked him.

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The Sporting Life

Hello, handsome.

Watching the Rugby World Cup with Mickey Rourke (Who Knew He Was an All-Blacks Fan?)

Around 3:45 a.m. on Sunday, the bouncers started warning patrons of the Red Lion that if they left, they would not be readmitted. But inside, the bar was still serving, and the crowd was not thinning: this was a “lock-in.” Patrons had each paid $10 for the privilege of watching live, on one of the Greenwich Village bar’s many available screens, New Zealand play France for the Rugby World Cup. Kick-off would be at 4 a.m. Read More

The Wee Hours

Ms. Mulligan, Ms. Williams, Ms. Dunst.

The Wee Hours: Sex and Death at Alice Tully Hall

“Wow, this is it, this view, New York City!” Michael Fassbender said after opening the door to the roof of the Standard, where the glass buildings lining the West Side bound forth from the meatpacking district toward midtown. It was Friday night, and The Observer had just watched the New York Film Festival’s screening of Read More

Fashion Week

Peter Oumanski

The Wee Hours: LiLo Crashes Marc Jacobs Bash Before Jagger Struts On In

The hotel guests at Dream Downtown had suitcases, satchels and children piled up next to the check-in counter, waiting interminably for a chance at a room, and as they did swirls of fashionable men and women speed-walked by without a word or a look—they were headed to the last big event of the week, the after-party for Marc Jacobs and his spring and summer collection. The hotel guests ventured an occasional glace at the well-attired cohort with the mysterious wristbands, striding confidently toward the tucked-away area in the back, but mostly they slouched on pieces of luggage and scratched at purple eyes, unknowing of the scene unfolding out of sight. Read More

Fashion Week

Miss Lily's, on Houston Street.

Miss Lily’s Chic Appeal

Last Sunday, The Observer was at Milk Studios, in the Meatpacking District, to see a presentation by The Lake & Stars, a Brooklyn-based lingerie line. The models stood with unflinching faces, wearing nothing but nightgowns and skimpy underwear, as a man served rum-spiked horchata from a wooden wagon. Editors chatted up other editors about the Read More


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