Lydia Hearst Hosts the Eldridge
September 11, 2008
Filed under Media & Music, Reviews
September 8th: The Eldridge is quite the testament to the adage, “All press is good press.”
Quick media recap:
7/22/08: Matt Levine Won’t Let You Into the Eldridge [NYMag]
7/22/08: Over 100 Commenters Declare Him a Douche [NYMag]
7/25/08: The Eldridge Has At Least One Fan [DBTH]
7/25/08: The Reason Why I Have a Laser Card and You Don’t [Gawker]
7/28/08: Boldly Going Where No Man Has Gone Before [Steve Lewis]
8/22/08: The Eldridge Owner Matt Levine: Douche Sells [Radar]
Despite the rage that incites when a new “exclusive” club opens, it’s still the safest approach to opening a place in cutthroat clubland. Rarely does the celebrity endorsed, models and bottles formula not garner at least a month of success (think: Submercer); if you’re lucky, you get a full year (think: The Box) or if you do it right, you can hit jackpot (think: Beatrice, Rose Bar). When I got Monday’s Fashion Week afterparty invite via Facebook (hence the blurry title picture), I was prepared to treat it like all my other club conquests. Attend just to say I’ve been and then return to unpretentious fun with real friends at a local divebar.
But the Eldridge legitimately shocked me. Levine has added an unexpected twist. Something novel. Something daring. Only someone off the wall insane would try this.
Everyone. Was. Nice. To. Me.
I was bowled over by the gregarious smiles from the entire waitstaff. My friend, who arrived much later than I, actually had to console the bouncer who incessantly apologized for making her wait. How starkly different from 1Oak where she was once informed “You barely got in.”
Everyone complains about power tripping bouncers and doormen who play God. But that’s why those clubs are so popular; they easily sucker fools into paying thousands to get in just so others cannot. People sadistically enjoy making those who are either not beautiful, rich, or connected feel like lower class citizens; it validates their place in the social hierachy. It’s unfortunate that Levine’s job title reassignment (bartenders = butlers) made many vomit, because hospitality is just the breath of fresh air that should revitalize jaded New Yorkers.
Moreover, I experienced the kind of camaraderie that I had only heard about from Bungalow 8 urban legends. Inside the tiny Eldridge, Lydia Hearst and Matt Levine sat atop the couches beside the DJ booth (housing babyfaced Jesse Marco), giggling and passing around bottles of Armand de Brignac. At 11:30pm, Levine, shushed the music and sans mic, informally toasted Hearst as one might at a dinner party. At one point, he apologized for the AC malfunctioning to which another fired back “we like it hot.” And truly, like friends and family, we watched Hearst on the screen, starring in Tara Subkoff’s short film for Bebe, while waitresses offered popcorn. Even Naeem, the doorman, spent a good chunk of time hanging out inside with guests and (gasp) smiling!
And so, the irony is that if the Eldridge does fail, it really is because douchebaggery sells. Then we should clone Alex Julian to man doors everywhere*.
<3 alice
See pictures of the party through Guest of a Guest, especially my favorite of Hearst.
P.S. Want to be my plus one at Catherine Fulmer’s after party at the Eldridge tonight? Email me and tell me what you think of the hoopla surrounding the venue.
*FYI, I know firsthand that Alex is genuinely a great person, it’s just that his job is to treat others like dirt.
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