Thursday, August 13, 2009

*Everyday Chatter

Ricky's expands their domain. Where Chelsea Custom Kitchens was, so Ricky's Beauty Shop and Revolver Salon shall be--on the corner of 17th and 8th. PLUS: A Ricky's Halloween costume shop is popping up at 147 8th Ave--that's the address of the defunct Marc Ecko Cut & Sew:


Haven't had your fill of the EV Noise Wars? Grieve and Jill have reports on last night's community meeting.

With all the complaining about prickly Manganaro's--a place I love--it's nice to see someone coming to their defense. Midtown Lunch gives guidelines for the uninitiated ("suck it up and follow their insane rules"), but if you know from Italian women, you should have no problem here. [ML]

Mars Bar: "still the type of dive where you can buy a dime bag of weed, get yelled at by an elderly alcoholic and make out with a teen runaway—all before 8 p.m." [NYP]

Take a tour of the city's fringe spots worth saving. [NYP]

Discovering doughnut ice-cream sandwiches at the ever-delightful Peter Pan Donut Shop in Greenpoint. [NYS]

On Bleecker, the former home of Magic Shoes is now history--and here comes another condo. [BB]

Rusty nails and white spiders--the vintage booze of Mad Men. [NYT]

This Virgin's got wood...


...big, fat, long plywood, of course, as the Union Square megastore gets prepped for Nordstrom Rack:

13 comments:

  1. Heck, we already have all the fratholes, cupcake seeking morons, and drunken B&Ts on the MacDougal/Bleecker/Houston strip, one condo will make absolutely no difference. (and the cops could not care less, trust me I know)

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  2. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be mad about Ricky's expansion, ha ha.

    I feel about the store the same way I do about David Barton: one of us. And thank the lawd it's not another bar!

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  3. i don't know how to feel about ricky's either. since i kind of like ricky's for being so weird. if we come to a day when there's a ricky's on every corner, it will then be a problem. again, chains don't bother me so much--until they become ubiquitous.

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  4. It's called ASKING PERMISSION for the dick who took photos in Manganaro's.
    You don't just walk into a privately owned store and start snapping photos like a real selfish dick. You ask the owner "May I take photos of you nice store for my blog". DICK.

    How do they know who you are? What if you are some real estate developer or food inspector. What an immature little prick.

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  5. Ken Mac,

    You mention "drunken B&Ts" plagueing your 'hood. Being B&T myself out here in Queens, I get the same feeling when I spot what seem to be "dem sofistikated city folk" roaming my neighborhood. How many community-crushing former Manhattanites (or Manhattanite wannabes) does it take for a borough to cross the tipping-point towards a full-blown Condorrhea epidemic?

    Judging from the tacky people making Manhattan their permanent home these days, I would think drunken-night-out B&T's are the least of your problems, but I'd be glad to try and keep them off your island if you agree to keep YOUR riff-raff (or RICH-raff) off of mine. Deal?

    Also, although I appreciate the indispensible dialog and am on your side, I'm not convinced that the artists, writers, etc. that came to these neighborhoods before were any more authentically involved in the communities they moved into than the executives who are moving in now. How proactive were they before they noticed things were going in a direction they disapproved of? Was it only after the rents started to skyrocket that they let out a battle cry? Cliche as it may sound, anyone who moves into an established community, be they artist or banker, plays their own part in the process of gentrification whether they like it or not. I guess I'm just tired of the blame game. Fratholes and cupcakes are just symptoms of a greater cultural disease that has been festering for far longer than any of us have lived in this city.

    Thank you, Jeremiah, for your contribution to the increasing awareness of the unjust politics and developments that are conspiring to turn the city (and world for that matter) into a plastic monoculture. I, for one, am inspired to take the lessons about gentrification and community activism I've learned from the plight of other parts of NYC and apply them now to my own community before it's too late here. I hope others reading your blog will do the same.

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  6. I've never been to Manganero's but those ladies sound like a hoot.

    I went to the offending blogger's site to read his account. He is, quite frankly, a huge dickhead. Calling old ladies "bitches" is beyond the pale for me (so much for the fabled manners of Southern men), but I had to laugh when he said

    ... and I am being verbally abused by both of these insane, abusive, horrible human beings. I just want a freaking sandwich. What the hell is going on.

    I really hate when people use the word "abuse" any time someone gives them a little verbal what-for. So you got yelled at. That's not abuse, you big weenie! He completely overreacted.

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  7. i hadn't even read the Fork NY guy's story. but i just did. it makes me love the manganaro's women more! they're so funny and fantastic! and everything they said is true about the "bloggatweeters." (myself included to an extent.) i love it.

    call me crazy, but that kind of experience is enlivening, unlike the deadening process at most other food (and non-food) places in NYC today.

    people who didn't grow up around ethnic, working class people don't know how to handle this stuff. it's so easy. you just play right back. "oh, ay, take it easy, lemme have some meatballs." easy.

    anyway, it really makes me think how much i have to get back there for another meal.

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  8. "Bloggatweeters" is indeed a most excellent word. I shall start using it immediately. Thanks, Manganaro ladies! :D

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  9. I used to order a delivery lunch from Manganaro's almost every other day back when I lived in that neighborhood. One day, after a few years of ordering, I finally visited the shop in person. I ordered my regular, and the woman behind the counter said, "Are you [name]?!" It was like meeting an old friend.

    For heaven's sake, if you don't like being treated to an authentic, salt-of-the-earth person (of which I count myself as one), then go somewhere else.

    Godspeed, Manganaro's.

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  10. Just read the guy's actual post. I'm steamed. Calling women "bitches" is not OK. I wish he'd take his fat white southern ass back where he belongs -- and it ain't here. He's got a picture on his blog. If someone could find out who he is, he deserves a good punch in the nose. Not any permanent harm, mind you, but a good, old-fashioned punch in the nose!

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  11. since the bourdain show featured manganaro's, i get a lot of googlers finding my post on them and writing nasty comments there about them. i assume the shop got a lot of new traffic after the bourdain show, too--traffic that would not otherwise walk in there.

    unfortunately, there are many people who move to new york and hate new york. they hate its attitude, dirt, and chaos. they want to change it into the middle-american town they came from. and god help you if you stand in the way of their suburbanizing crusade.

    anyway, i'll bet you anything that a ton of assholes have been flowing into manganaro's. it's no wonder they're pissed.

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  12. Jeremiah, I have not read the Fork account, but I must say having seen first hand those woman in action I think its an absurd way to do business. Their attitude runs counter to everything an Italian grosseria or pork store is/should be about in my experiences. Most you enter are helpful, inviting and make you feel like a part of the family... new or old customer.

    Growing up in NJ and entering NYC via the tunnel, the store was a stop my family often made. Once moving here I began to stop up there now and again but found that the attitude had really taken a nose dive. Head to Newark or even that yunnie capital Hoboken for as authentic and delicious food/locales at a lower price without the attitude or fear of attitude.

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  13. Anon 8/14, as a paesan' myself, you better watch it.

    I live in Dobbs Ferry, and I can tell you from personal experience: When old Italian women start being sweet Nonni-Zia types to perfect strangers, something has gone terribly wrong. For one thing, the quality of Italian food in the area goes straight to Hell. It happened here, and we ain't so gentrified either.

    Sometimes nasty works, and sometimes it works for no goddam good reason.

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