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This private party space and weekend lounge is owned and operated by its next door neighbor Gaslight. Like its parent establishment, the swank speakeasy delivers a refreshingly low-key vibe despite being smack dab in the middle of Meatpacking madness. The midsized room is decked out like some crazy trust-funded aunt's formal library: There's a gorgeous marble inlaid bar, a tin ceiling and overstuffed chairs upholstered in dark tones. Plants, leather-bound books and seltzer bottles compete for space on the shelves as if to indicate this batty relative is a green-thumbed bluestocking-ed teetotaler. Along the back wall, deeply-set, curtained wood-framed booths lend an air of indiscretion. As DJs spin hip-hop and house from an elevated booth, the crowd of Soho House rejectees and Hogs & Heifers rejecters take to the floor. — Jane Lerner