All Fashion Week we’ve pitted the bright-eyed rookies against the familiar runway beauties to determine the Model of the Week. Once again, our complex algorithm took into account the number of each model’s openings and closings at big shows as well as a general buzz factor in the tents.
Having spent most of our week clustered amongst French folk, we welcomed the change to hang with their fun southern neighbors from Spain at yesterday's Custo Barcelona show. As we don't speak Spanish, we were sadly unable to understand any of the conversations happening around us, but actions speak louder than foreign languages.
Okay, so we know it's totally possible that "Page Six" has been exaggerating the crap out of this Lance Armstrong and Ashley Olsen relationship. Like, we heard from an eyewitness that they weren't actually making out at Rose Bar the other night, they were just whispering. But anyway, they were spotted again at Waverly Inn on Tuesday, so maybe there's something to it. For our own amusement, we tried to imagine the conversation they had over delicious chicken pot pie at the trendy restaurant:
Lance: You know, I've been a fan of yours since Full House.
Ashley: Aw, thanks. That's so sweet. I was so fat then!
Lance: I thought you were adorable. I watch the reruns with my kids. You really pulled off all of those matching baby jumpers! I never dreamed I'd get to actually make out with you.
Ashley: I get that a lot. I really admire what you did with, you know, your ball cancer. You took lemons and made them into lemonade..
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.
How do you get to the Roof Club and Landscaped Garden of the Gramercy Park Hotel? Just take the elevator. Thing is, you’re going to need a private membership card to key it — and that’s why we suggest you set aside any ambition of seeing the place’s Damien Hirst paintings and amazing view in person and simply let Fabiola Beracasa give you the video tour. Chances are, even if you have $545 for a room or the wherewithal to gain admittance, you’re not going to have a drinking companion as lovely as Fab.
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