Friday night found us splitting a cab to Grammercy for a new friend's birthday party. We brought Prosecco for the apartment party, thinking it surely must be like all of the other pseudo-casual apartment parties.
We were dead wrong.
First, there was a cute little red carpet and velvet rope. When we opened the door-to a very chic apartment- we were greeted by the bartender, mixing up the most incredible cocktails. We perused the menu, and quickly decided on the
'First Orgasm' as we glanced around the apartment. We quickly realized we would not be needed the bottle of Prosecco as one entire wall was devoted to a gorgeous display of hundreds of bottles. In the corner, a DJ spun music so cool I wasn't even familiar. As the party began to heat up, I found myself talking to the man who decided to make red carpets rentable for the common man.
He had quite the interesting story, and a completely viable business (thanks to the age of internet celebrity and reality tv, it seems everyone needs a red carpet these days). I waffled between being intruiged by his business, and being put off by the man himself. He was way too close to me, for one. Secondly, he had a small chip in his front tooth (this is how close he was!). Third, and most important, he made two or three rather vulgar jokes. Now, I'm no prude, but these jokes were more of the bathroom variety than the bedroom... something I'm just not interested in hearing. Especially when they were passing out cake.
The clincher though, was when the party was moving to the next venue, I watched as he rolled up the carpet and moved the velvet rope inside. Call me a snob, but once a man rolls up a dirty well-tread carpet, the moment just kind of loses it's magic, doesn't it?
After collecting our Marc Jacobs giftbags (!), we headed to the next venue... from there, the night was a blur...
Can you tell where we are?
