Reservations at The Popular Table.
I recently emailed a friend to stop including me in her invites of debauchery because I’m on “lockdown” for the book. She responded, “I’d like to see your version of lockdown.”
Okay fine, last night, I did unchain myself from the sexy studio under the bridge to see friends, no strings/assignments attached. While I loved our group - I always do— I’m going back into captivation.
We went to the #1 coolest LES restaurant (which I won’t name since a pal does their PR, and I can’t risk her NOT feeding me for free until my book becomes a major motion picture).
The fact is, the food is SO delicious at such joint that I can almost swallow all the Intermix-chics around me. And I don’t entirely agree with my bitter well-centered friend, who whispered loudly enough to make all the Alice & Olivias cry, “If everyone in this place went missing, the world would be a better place.” Harsh!!
I’ve never meshed with “the scene.” On the outside I can blend, not the inside. It’s not that deep; there’s just nothing interesting there for me. Maybe I’m being the bitch. After all, I drank sparkling water and kept my leather jacket on. I even wore skinny, grey jeans ala Kate Moss in the mean years. Perhaps I’m the problem, not the pretty, little things?
Bottom line: Back on lockdown. And I’ll see you 2nt.
