We confess we were miffed when Victoria Beckham went nuts for Christian Siriano's collection in the Project Runway season finale and proclaimed she would love, even feel honored, to wear his clothes. Beckham may not be known for her minimalist fashion sense (when Roberto Cavalli designs your tour clothes, subtlety just isn't for you), but even we were surprised she went so gaga for Siriano's ruffle-and-feather parade.
Paris Hilton is, of course, the living embodiment of everything cinephiles hate about Sundance. She doesn’t even have a movie in the festival, for one: She says she’s promoting her new flick, The Hottie and the Nottie, which one critic friend of ours described as “as close as you can get to straight-to-DVD without being straight-to-DVD.” More likely, though, she's here to get paid (as the gossip columns claim) to show up at parties, including one thrown this weekend by the folks behind NYC club Stereo, which she fled from in tears before they could get their money’s worth. In a more private moment, she made out with also inexplicably famous Simon Rex at 5WPR’s Escape Mansion, deep in Deer Valley — apparently forgetting, according to a publicist we know, that she’d done the exact same thing at Sundance four years ago, at a Motorola party.
The young woman outside the Paramount Theatre says she’s come to the Seattle preview of Young Frankenstein, Mel Brooks’s follow-up to his tremendous hit The Producers, because she’s a “bitch.” “And so is Megan Mullally!” she squeals. “From Will & Grace! She’s a bitch, I'm a bitch. We have a connection!” Ms. Mullally’s superfan is among an older and decidedly more guarded crowd — the middle-aged couple sitting next to us came because they got a deal when they bought tickets to Spamalot.
What hope does a covetous indie-film star have? The iPhone doesn't go on sale till 6 p.m. Friday, but as Racked reports, queues at the midtown and Soho Apple stores started forming yesterday. Here, the first guy on line at each location. (We suspect this isn't the first time the guy in midtown has slept out for days for something.) Good luck, kids.
iPhrenzy: The First People in Line [Racked]
The definition of a gastropub, as Adam Platt points out in his E.U. review this week, is open to question. But there’s no doubt that even the most broadly defined one is an upgrade over a bar with bad food, or no food at all. The Half-Pint, on West 3rd Street, will soon be pouring hand-drawn cask ale and over 60 kinds of bottled beer for NYU students and other locals, as well as administering a better-than-it-has-to-be food program. Chef-owner Mark Whelan’s menu includes fried Wisconsin cheese curds, crusted yellowfin tuna over salad, and some creative rethinkings of familiar bar standards, such as a ground-bratwurst burger, and a Reuben pizza with French dressing, sauerkraut, pastrami, and Swiss cheese. (For our part, we plan to stick to cask ale and traditional bar pies with Esposito sausage and cremini mushrooms. At least for the first few pints.) The Half Pint is slotted to open Memorial Day weekend.
The Half-Pint, 76 W. 3rd St., nr. Thompson St.; no phone yet.The Half Pint menu
With just twenty seats (most wedged between the bar and a wall), Zucco: Le French Diner is one of the most lilliputian eateries in the city. Once we located the bathroom jammed in the back corner next to a prep table — and tapped on the cook’s shoulder so he could make room for us to open the door — we weren’t surprised to find that it's also tres petite. Thankfully, what the loo lacks in size, it makes up for with Godardian flair.