Mohawks, Pink Tentacles, and other flaming creatures
Blind item: What chic East Village dive is backed by the longtime scenesters who once owned Wonder Bar and who now also have twinkly, très gai Starlight (within stumbling distance on Avenue A)? This designy snug harbor boasts low-wattage lighting that illuminates a raft of cork-covered, shell-like baffles that resemble what famous opera house located Down Under? What crowd goes here for arty chat and Scotch, grappa, and chichi cocktails like the key lime martini (Stoli Vanil, lime juice, and pineapple juice; $9) that, although expensive, are worth the splurge? You guessed it: a hot mix of the young, not-so-dumb, and immaculately coiffed, who belly up to the bar to flirt with Giovan (hot stuff with that mohawk) and watch Barbarella on the tiny video screen. What national treasure of a songwriter (hint: "he's so big/yet so petite . . . ") hosts a fab party on Mondays with his dreamy DJ pal (often seen elsewhere . . . and Nowhere), who's named for a late-period T. Rex tune? What East Village artist-entertaineras infamous for his sexy tattoos as for his uke-driven Dolly Parton coversis often spotted here, drinking Pink Tentacles (raspberry vodka and Chambord; $5) and pining away for his lover? I ask you, is there an Isotoner in the house? What's the only place to get your weekly bellyful of bubblegum, Gainsbourg, Abba, and 69 other flavors of fuzz-toned psyched-pop fun?
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