Downtown 81 is an urban fairy-tale set in New York that tracks a day in the life of a young artist named Jean (played by Jean-Michel Basquiat, then 19).  In a Homeric, yet open ended styling, Jean has a rollercoaster ride of a day filled with different characters, obstacles and scenarios. Through the course of his odyssey Jean’s travels span Manhattan from the Upper East Side to the financial district, however most of his time is spent “Downtown” (SoHo,LES,Tribeca).  The day is peppered with cameos, performances (notabley Kid Creole and the Coconuts) and locales that paint an amazing scene of downtown in 1981.

“Downtown” geographically is the brilliance of downtown 81. The film itself isn’t particularly good for films sake, but the documentation of the rugged and raw essence of what downtown once was makes this a must see for any creative or interested individual. The Dark alleys, pushers, streets, artists, squats, musicians, designers, models, clubs, graffiti… Downtown 81 feels authentic, like a real snapshot of an exciting and important time in Gotham history. Imagine all of this culture jammed into an 80 minute film set to a dope soundtrack and starring JMB…… exactly.

I had forgotten that once upon a time there was a  elevated highway running along the lower west side until I saw the closing shot of Downtown 81, which made the entire film for me. We miss you.

If you want to do something memorable for fashion week, skip the Jane hotel, Rosebar, The Standard and all of the usual haunts and go to the International center of Photography to see Avedon Fashion 1944-2000. Blocks away from the tents and fabulousness of fashion week is the first ever museum exhibit dedicated to visionary fashion photographer Richard Avedon’s entire career in fashion.

The centerpiece of the exhibit “paris at night” is a romantic journey into a nocturnal playland. Physically the photos are hung in dark gallery with black walls and no lights except the spotlights on each image. This shadowy display sets the mood for images that evoke a dark yet glamorous portrayal of Paris in the 60′s. Many of the photos have a  candid quality because of the effortlessness of the shots. In some instances there is a papparazi-like quality, in others there is a fly on the wall voyeuristic feel. The fashion, locations, models, lighting and perspective culminate in a romantically noir environ that beckons the audience.  I wished i was there, in the photos, in the scene, in the Moulin Rouge, in the cafe des Beaux Arts, on the Pont Neuf.  

Equally as powerful, the rest of the exhibit is a walk through a colorful(figuratively) career that spans almost 6 decades of Fashion Photography. Coco Chanel, Audrey hepburn, Stephanie  Seymour, Bridget Bardot, Suzy Parker and Lauren Hutton are some of the more well know faces that you will see as subject in Avedon’s work.  Particularly powerful are some of his images created in post-war Paris.  His photos brought life and fun mixed with fashion to a place where at the time was not as such.  The transplanting of Avedon’s American style into the Backdrop of an old European city created seamless juxtapositions that at the time had never been seen.  Also on exhibit are some Vintage prints and Archival Material from his years at Harper’s Bazaar and Vogue Magazines alongside vintage copies of Magazines and Editorial Layouts.  Ahhh the Clothing… It goes without saying that there is nonstop inspiration from some of the most amazing and celebrated houses of fashion all throughout the exhibit.  

Stop reading and Go! Hurry Exhibit ends 9/20

International Center  of  Photography
1133 Avenue of the Americas at 43rd Street, New York, NY 10036
Phone 212.857.0000

Photos: R. Avedon

Really?

Gentrification, the perpetually hungry and ironic resident of New York once again illustrates that it aint where you’re from its where you’re at.

The Bowery, once the epicenter of new yorks homeless is now the home for the likes of Daniel Boulud, John Varvatos and Rogan Gregory. Long gone is the Bowery of Joseph Mitchell’s, frankly, gone is the Bowery of A-Ron’s. Although cleaned up, lower Bowery has kept true to its roots with the restaurant supply and lighting districts still intact.  Upper Bowery (north of houston) however is cluttered with new hotels, bars, an Avalon condo at its foot and onetime resident CBGB’s is no more.  I am a romantic Gothamite who “misses the old new york”, but from the seed of the Bowery has grown a flower in  Gentrification’s garden.

Located on 3rd street below the Bowery hotel is the restaurant Gemma. The design of the place, although overtly Rustic is tastefully done and the various furniture, art, Italian and culinary accoutrement feel curated. The exposed wooden beams and candles help further transport a patron from downtown New York to elsewhere.

The elsewhere isn’t a family run restaurant in northern Italy, but it’s not far off. This elsewhere is a place with a warm amber glow, an a la carte menu, a knowledgeable sommelier, and a wood burning pizza oven. The perfect backdrop for casual convo, food sharing with strangers and a bottle or two of wine. With appetizers like the burrata caprese or the truffeled polenta fries meals at gemma have tended to be less entree driven. Dining like this, with courses, lends itself to longer meals with breaks.  More time to drink, go outside & smoke, chat up your neighbors, whatever.  There is less emphasis on the “eating” of dinner than the “having” of dinner.  The experiential side of Gemma  is why week after week we go back.

Although the name and whimsical branding does come from Pixar Animation Studios 2003 release Finding Nemo, make no mistake… Nemo Juice is grown man BI.   Nutcrackers have been around for ages and everyone uptown has or knows a number to get a sweet homemade cocktail of various alcohols and juices (dubbed “nutcracker”)  delivered to you at any time of day or night.  Nemo juice, is essentially the same thing however one small point of distinction makes it the winner.   Nemo is frozen. Yes. Frozen Daiquiri  like drinks delivered to your door or picked up at designated depots. Perhaps my fondness for this grey market frozen drink is because it reminds me of  summers spent drinking contraband “Margaritas to Go” on the Lower East Side (looking absolutely suspect because the entire neighborhood was walking around drinking the same shit) …. Or maybe its just the sweet and indiscernible blend of alcohol and juice that makes Nemo one of my top drinks of the summer.

Find one….

These seats were exceptional. Not the view–that was exceptional too–I mean the actual seats. They had cushioning. Baseball stadium seats, with cushioning…

This is our national pastime’s answer to those luxurious reclining thrones at Cinema le Grand Action in Paris. And this, mes amis, is the way to watch the Yankees pull off a high drama, homer-driven 7-5 comeback  win over the Blue Jays on a balmy mid-August evening: well-cushioned and close enough to the action that the home plate umpire definitely heard me when I told him what a great eye he had, and Derek Jeter also definitely heard me when I reminded him that we met once at Club Cheetah in 1997.

But the setting for all this cushioniness and drama and yelling is, ultimately, a sterile, insipid design disappointment. Not that the old (renovated) Yankee stadium was much to speak of, but the new one-for all the effort and millions and hype-is a lowbrow, nondescript, white bread roll, stuffed with commercial space, wrapped in a bland, vaguely monumental shell , and capped with a classic Yankee frieze that looks, here, like an afterthought. It’s nice. It’s serviceable. It’s ok for a midwestern city of, say, 1-2 million, but not for the hallowed (if repeatedly desecrated) baseball grounds of the Bronx. Even the arch-corporate Yankees deserve something better than this (full disclosure, I am blue and orange and-this season-black with mourning.)

In fairness, TARP field out in Queens, gussied up in its Ebbets field finest , isn’t much better, but at least it has some design elements–the bridge terrace and food court areas in right field, as well as some of the masonry and color details throughout-that can make a Mets fan almost forget how much he misses that clumsy old blue and orange piss-reeking concrete half-donut that used to stand  in the parking lot next door.

Particularly puzzling at the new Yankee park is the guest pass-only Mohegan Sun bar encased in the center field batter’s eye. Passes came with our seats so in innings 3 and 4 we stationed ourselves there for some upscale fine drinking. Drink we did-finely, if not cheaply-but it’s beyond me why anyone would go all the way to the ballpark just to sit inside a chilly blackbox sports bar and watch the game on twenty televisions. And you have to watch on twenty televisions because,despite the name of the place, you can’t gamble or find hookers there, and the windows are so tinted you can barely see the field.

But these days, things on television are more real than things that are not on television. In the truly brave new world to come, we’ll do away with seats altogether–cushioned or otherwise–and simply build ballfields ringed, concentrically, by:

tv cameras
sports bars
parking
hookers 

Goldberger, Ouroussoff, others–please weigh in.