A fight broke out seven hours into the new year.
“You’re my fucking brother,” shouted a man on Houston Street. “I’ve known you for, oh, how many fucking years, and you know, on our mother, I would never hit somebody.”
The stomping and tears echoed four floors below our apartment. From out our window, where we were smoking, the two men ended a long night—stretched into daylight—with an argument kicked up along the shuttered storefronts of the Lower East Side.
After a few glasses of midday white wine in the lounge of the Brook Club, The Observer walked into the third floor dining room and found ourselves seated next to Gay Talese. We had seen him on a few lucky occasions over the past 12 months—the last night of Elaine’s, the Norman Read More
On his first night of a week-long run helming LTO, a pop-up seafood restaurant in Chinatown, head chef Eddie Huang found the place unexpectedly understaffed. Down two sous chefs, he was forced to use a technique he deemed “octopus cooking.”
“I was cooking with my hands, my feet. If my dick could cook, it would Read More
Last Sunday night, Rob, a hulking Hamptons cab driver with two bum knees, barreled his van down the Montauk Parkway toward Amagansett running through a pack of reservation cigarettes and talking about his drug habits.
“If I’m on a heavy narcotic, do you want me coming in?” he yelled to The Observer, who fastened his Read More
In a cordoned-off gold nook of the Boom Boom Room, Zach Galifinakis slouched on a mushrooming sofa with Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms and Olivia Wilde. He was wearing a striped sweater and… was it a Muppets baseball cap? Could that be possible? Things seemed hazy. Olivia Palermo–or was it Gossip Girl‘s Amanda Setton?–came by to Read More