Cocktails in Wonderland

I am a downtown girl. No ifs and buts about it. I prefer the low key vibe and village atmosphere. But I have to admit that every now and then there is a teeny bit of Upper East Side in me as well. And when this side of me wants to come out, I head straight to a New York icon; Bemelman's Bar at the Carlyle Hotel on 76th Street.

It's not exactly a secret, but it is not often on a tourist's radar, which means your fellow sippers tend to be those died-in-the-wool, old-school New Yorkers. Built in the 1930's, the Carlyle has been considered a home away from home for many a socialite, actor, politician and everything in between. I'm not sure I would suggest to my friends to stay here, but I would always take a New York first-timer to Bemelmans.

The charm of this bar lies in its whimsical mural by Herr Ludwig Bemelman. Born in Austria, he moved to New York during WWI. He drew this mural in 1947 in return for accommodation. A fantastical depiction of Central Park, the walls of this haute New York establishment are filled with picnicking rabbits, elephants reading the newspaper and families of giraffes out for a Sunday walk. The childlike naivite of the mural may seem at odds with the elderly clientele of the bar sipping their sherry and listening to the resident pianist. But that is what makes it all so marvelous and so New York.

And a little piece of trivia. If you are trying to remember how you know the name Bemelman, perhaps it is becuase you - like I - were a fan of the Madeline books when you were a child. This same Mr Bemelman wrote and illustrated six Madeline books. You remember, "In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, there were twelve little girls in two straight lines." She even makes an appearance in Bemelmans bar.

images: rosewood hotels, vanity fair, artslant, flickr, boston, stay

French Invasion

Good Golly Miss Molly. I'm back in New York to find that the Frogs have followed me! According to the NY Times and Vanity Fair, Parisian nightlife is not enough for the fickle French youth. So they have crossed the pond to infiltrate our nightlife scene!

Now I'm no longer a night owl, preferring a book in bed to dancing on the bar. So I have to rely on the anesthetist's hip 20-something friends (don't ask how that works given he is old enough to be their father) to fill me in on what's hot. According to one very lovely and very talented young Austrian photographer, New York's nightlife is one of the most boring in the world and Paris is the best! Mickey Boardman, editorial director of the offbeat Paper Magazine seems inclined to agree. "Night-life in New York is so sanitized these days. We long for French things." Who would have thought? So perhaps that is why the Frogs are here. To show us how it's done?

Whatever the reason, the uber cool and French-inclined are somehow getting past the notoriously difficult velvet rope scenario to be as dirty and French as you like in super exclusive Parisian-style hot spots around town. There's Le Bain on the roof of the Standard Hotel in Meatpacking, which has to - ironically - have one of the best views of Manhattan. They run an aptly named Sunday party called 'Nouveau York.' And nightclub impresario Andre Saraiva, has just opened the NY outpost of his incredibly elite and successful Le Baron franchise. Saraiva chose the grungy area of Chinatown for his location because of its mix of bohemians and immigrants. And that really sums up the crowds at these places. If you're not an artist, muso or rebel, you better make damn sure you look and sound like Jane Birkin or are  hanging off the arm of a Serge Gainsbourg lookalike. Because a business suit and formidable bank account just won't cut it here. It's all about the smokey eye, the casually held gitane and a large dose of french insouciance. In the words of Monsieur Saraiva, "Let's smoke cigarettes and get naked."

image: vanity fair, last fm

A Hearth in Winter

When the thermometer refuses to budge above zero, the city is covered in snow and you are trudging through this every day,

All you really want to do is sit in front of this:

My favorite of favorite places here in winter is the lobby of the Bowery Hotel. It has the feeling of an old hunting lodge and is perfect for a weekend afternoon tea or drinks. It is full of persian rugs, oak chairs with tapestry seats, sofas that you sit back in and never want to extricate yourself from and huge roaring fires framed by marble mantlepieces.

The wood paneled ceilings and wrought iron lighting help lend a middle aged feeling. I keep expecting Aragorn to walk through the door.

Although I think this interior is too heavy for spring/ summer, they do have a lovely outdoor area with wicker furniture under a glass roof, overlooking fruit trees and grass on a vacant block behind.

And if you get sleepy and decide to stay, check out one of these rooms that have featured in numerous movies. Sleep soundly under Frette sheets and dream of your favorite Lord of the Rings character.

images: (1-2) mine, (3) elle decor, (4) hotels.com, (5) agent smith, (6) hotel chatter  (7) cool gadget concepts, (8) flixster, (9) bowery hotel

Out of the Frying Pan and into the Hudson

For a city surrounded by water, Manhattan is not good at taking advantage of the water views. Granted the Hudson River is no Sydney Harbor or even Port Philip Bay, but for those of us who desperately need an occasional sense of space and to see the sky once in a while, it dearly offers both.

So imagine my delight when I found out about a bar on a barge - in the Hudson! It took an "out-of-towner" to introduce me to this concept, but now I am a convert. The boat, called "Frying Pan", used to protect the Frying Pan Shoals off Cape Fear in North Carolina. It spent three years under water until it was salvaged, restored and brought to Chelsea, where it now resides at Pier 66 at the end of West 26th St.

You certainly don't come here for the decor or food. But if you want a cold beer and some fries, pull up a plastic chair, rest your legs on the side of the barge and watch the sun set over New Jersey. It doesn't get much better than that in this town.

Images: Brian Dube @ new york daily photo, mine