Now you see them, now you don’t. No sooner had we heard about all these superclubs—which found everyone heralding the return of New York nightlife—than many of the aforementioned clubs closed temporarily or permanently. The much hyped reopening of Estate @ Limelight was a dud, and the club is closing shop—with the exception of John Blair‘s gay Sunday parties—until Fashion Week, says publicist Claire O’Connor.
Also going on hiatus is Powder, the chi-chi nightspot in the meatpacking district. The space, which opened with much hoopla (its swank interiors were conceived by famed designer Karim Rashid), abruptly shut down after New Year’s Eve after one of its investors reportedly pulled out. (The club’s CEO, Anthony—he refused to give a last name—denies that an investor bailed, saying tersely, “We don’t wish to comment at this time,” before hanging up on the Voice.)
The club was supposedly so cash strapped that they ran out of glasses on New Year’s, and, says a snitch, employees were locked out when an owner changed the locks on the staff without notice. (A club employee denies that ever happened.)
The space has not yet been sold (the employee says the owners are still taking offers), but they hope to be reopened by February. In the meantime, construction on the downstairs room will be completed.
And rumors abound that Spa is also getting a face-lift. But Claire O’Connor says that while the owners have “been talking about it for a while—getting a new look and a new name,” there are no immediate plans to switch things up.
Marion’s Continental, the classy, historic bar on the Bowery, is expanding. The owners have nabbed an adjacent space that will house the Marquee, a performance cabaret, and the Slide, a downstairs gay bar. Ab fab! Meanwhile, Marion’s regulars, the kitschy dancing trio the Pontani Sisters, in addition to touring the world and frequently appearing on Late Night With Conan O’Brien, will be hosting a Wednesday aerobic dance class called “The Fitness Follies” at the Broadway-Houston Crunch gym through March 26. Why, even I might start exercising.
Talk about starting the new year with a bang. Andrew Andrew, the surreal double-trouble downtown duo, apparently got in quite a mash-up on New Year’s Eve at the Tribeca Grand. The designers-DJs-self-promoters supposedly stalked a woman who looked eerily like Melissa Burns of W.I.T. (she even had those platinum blonde wings). They reportedly started accosting her about how terrible and talentless they thought she was, then tried to thwack her across the head with a beer bottle. The blond was British (as was her bewildered boyfriend), and Burns is most certainly not from the U.K. The Andrews were promptly hauled out by security.
But the duo vociferously defend themselves, saying the bust-up was not a dis at Burns but merely a drunken incident: The Andrews maintain they didn’t try to break a glass over the blond’s head. They say that alcohol had been spilled on them and they assumed that the couple were the perpetrators so they “returned the favor” with a splash of spirits.
“We didn’t know it had gone to this extreme. We were completely apologetic to all parties,” said one Andrew, speaking, of course, for the other Andrew. “Larry Tee called us and said Melissa was afraid to go out.” I’m not sure if the tongue was in or out of cheek when he said, “We didn’t realize how big we were or how public we are. Madonna would have no comment, but we’re not like other celebrities.” Clearly.
Williamsburg is, like, so over. At least Richie Hawtin seems to think so, reports Jockey Slut, a favorite U.K. mag among trainspotting geeks like me. The bald one, who moved to our fair city not even a year ago, taking up residence in trendy Williamsburg, might already be leaving. Jockey Slut reports that he’s headed for Berlin—where things are a bit more poppin’. “Apparently the Canadian is tired of the North American techno circuit and wishes to live somewhere more creative,” they write. But Mr. Hawtin e-mailed from his main studio in Windsor, Ontario, where he is working on new material, saying he hasn’t made up his mind yet. If he does decides to leave, I can’t say I blame him. You can smoke in bars in Berlin, and better yet, you can dance, hassle free.