Arriving at B.east, the lounge beneath LESteraunt Broadway East, it felt like I was crashing a dinner party. Walking past video projections of ’60s movies into the restaurant area, I found a long table of hip kids who— against all odds—were decidedly friendly and engaging. So engaging that Aaron, a bespectacled boy with a faggle of friends, had no qualms about approaching me and asking to borrow my pen.
“I promise I’ll get it back!” he insisted, “I bartered it to my friend for this cigarette!”
Returning my beloved Parker, he informed me that the real party doesn’t truly begin until well after midnight. Just then, the DJ put on Rusted Root’s “Drum Trip” and “Send Me On My Way,” giving me disturbing flashbacks of Jewish summer camp. At least the dinner party took the cue, and the long table was cleared from the dance floor.
This hotspot started by fashion photographer Ryan McGinley near the F-train’s last stop in Manhattan was billed as a “party for gays who hate gay parties,” but he’s not involved with dance party anymore. Luckily, this doesn’t prevent a slew of artsy, Brooklyn-type youths from arriving and carrying on late into the night.
We didn’t get too much of the promised “rock music,” but mixed in with the graphic tank tops and cutoff skinny jeans were slightly bewildered straight boys in slacks and button-downs towed around by girlfriends. Diversity!
Still, brandishing my pen and pad proved to be more than enough reason for folks to engage me. “I used to work at the Czech Marie Claire!” said Janerick, a neatly dreadlocked young gent in skinny black pants. Moving upstairs I pushed through a thick crowd of dancers and was similarly engaged for my props by Jonathan Thai, a New Zealander and a B.east regular, who informed me over Rihanna and Lady Gaga that “Thursdays are your best bet. But I also love Suede on Sundays and Greenhouse! I’m a James Coppola devotee; New York is so fashion, but it’s still two years behind everyone else!”
How long have you been here?
“Seven months,” he said, grinning ecstatically.
