*Everyday Chatter

We've long worried that Mars Bar would soon be lost. Now it has happened. Mars Bar the cat, that is. If you've seen this fella in the vicinity of 16 W. 11th St., please call the owners:


High Line inspires Japanese hipsters to create Tabloid, an "eclectic art, office, gallery and studio space for the creative set." [CNNGO]

Superdive introduces the wet t-shirt contest to the EV. And welcome to Spring Break in Fort Lauderdale. [EVG]

Kicks keep coming for Fairey mural. [BB]

Enjoy vintage ads for the Electric Circus. [Stupefaction]

Put that Grocery & Deli sign back where you found it. [LC]

*Everyday Chatter

Absolut releases Brooklyn-flavored vodka--apple, ginger, and Spike Lee. [GPs]
Tracking down the giant iguana of 61 Fifth Avenue. [FP]

Peter Orlovsky has passed away. I remember seeing him read at the Poetry Project, drinking a tallboy, shirt unbuttoned and belly swelling, talking about eating ass. [P&W] (NSFW)

An "occasional DJ" for Avenue B. [EVG]

A metaphor for the Bowery before it was hip: "Sticking out like an infected anus at the end of the island, the Bowery lays a fart in the face of New York." [RS]

Discarded matzo outside the Streit's Factory--not every sheet of unleavened bread can make the the grade. [BB]

Bill's Gay 90s

During my last meal at Gino, a topic of conversation around the bar, among the regulars, was "Where do we go now?" Until Michael of Gino's opens up, someone suggested Bill's Gay 90s, not too far away on 54th between Park and Madison.

It's a good suggestion. Bill's has been around even longer than Gino, since 1924 when it began as a speakeasy. It's so old, Tallulah Bankhead drank there. Like "21," it's even got a jockey at the door.



I stepped through the hand-carved, stained-glass swinging doors for a drink at Bill's Silver Dollar Bar and mentioned to the bartender that Gino's displaced regulars might give Bill's a try as their new home. He welcomed them, and said to a woman at the bar, "Hey, the people from Gino's might be coming over here."

"Well, alright," she said, "bring 'em in." And then, "Did you hear they're making it into a cupcake place? Can you fucking believe it?"

Good people at Bill's.



Says Bill's website, "this jewel in the crown of Roaring Twenties nightlife continues to defy the powers that be (progress now and development) while holding its sacred ground for a clientele, in some cases, four generations old. You’ll find everything just as it was in Bill’s, unchanged and unspoiled."

It's true. Not much has changed since the place first opened. It's still got the comfortable, brown air of a very old bar. On the walls are ancient pictures of boxers and racehorses, along with lovely Ziegfeld girls, all long dead and gone. There's also a wooden telephone booth with an accordion door, and an upright piano inviting you to sing along.



And the feeling inside is right. It was surprisingly quiet when I was there. It wasn't touristy, like I thought it might be, and it lacked the typical bar-crawly crowds that mass in other good, old bars like McSorley's, Pete McManus, the Corner Bistro, or Chumley's when it was still standing.

So go to Bill's, but go soon--you never know where cupcakes will attack next.

See more photos.

Ciao from Gino

Yesterday's Gino post received a note from the daughter of Gino's co-owner. She was kind enough to write in, on behalf of her father, and tell us:

"I came across this blog accidentally and just want to thank you and everyone else who appreciated Gino for what it was. My father, Salvatore Doria, the owner and face of Gino, is so sad that Gino could not go on as the beautiful piece of New York it has been for the past almost 70 years."



"You are right, it was electric Saturday night. That's how I remember it when I used to go visit my Daddy at his 'job' when I was little. Anyone who has been to Gino has a story to tell. It may have been a brush with a celebrity at the next table or just the memory of the taste of that Segreto sauce (my favorite).

Either way, he has asked me to express his love for you all and for your loyalty throughout the years. Ciao!"

--Concetta Doria Stetler

Make Way for Sprinkles

As many of you already know, Gino, the beloved 65-year-old Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side, has closed and will be replaced by the first New York outpost of "Sprinkles," a cupcake chain store based in Beverly Hills, known as a favorite to celebs like Oprah, Katie Holmes, and Paris Hilton.

In a city altered by cupcake mania, where it's now cupcake lovers vs. a rising tide of angry cupmudgeons, for Gino to turn into a cupcake shop, any cupcake shop, really hurts.


image: Jessie Oleson, cakespy

Recently, an anonymous commenter here called our attention to the widely documented litigiousness of Sprinkles.

In one of their early gestures, they went after Sprinkled Pink Cupcake Couture in Montecito, demanding that they change their name. Said the owner of Sprinkled Pink to the LA Times, "There's room for other cupcake shops. They shouldn't be bullying around or picking on little people like us... I really honestly don't think they invented the cupcake."


image: Snuffleguppy

Reported the LA Times, Sprinkles' lawyers sent out about a dozen similar demands in letters to other cupcake bakeries across the LA area. They challenged another cupcake bakery for putting dots on their cupcakes, and even a frozen yogurt business in Philadelphia.

Sprinkles' very popular cupcake war then inspired someone to create a nefarious website that drew the cupcake curious into its lair and infected them with a virus.

One of the Gossip Girls helped bring Sprinkles to New York. Which rounds out the whole Sex & the Cupcake picture--SATC spawned the cupcake craze and spawned Gossip Girl, both of which helped turn swaths of Manhattan into Beverly Hills East, and the Californication of New York City continues.


image: Anablog

Anyway, I can't help but think: For this, we lose the great Gino, who fed Frank Sinatra, Ed Sullivan, Gay Talese. Who wouldn't change a thing--not a pipe, not a dish--because the place was a landmark for 65 years. For cupcakes, we lose a landmark?

*Everyday Chatter

The next incarnation of Skyline Books comes to life! But will the famous Linda be there? [LC]

Extra Place--formerly an alley for CBGB and a speakeasy--takes the next step in going boutique. [EVG]

Irving Plaza gets its name back. [Stupefaction]

Abramovic's final performance ends in vomit and nudity. [Gawker]

15 ways to stop Magnolia Bakery's "Carrie Cupcake." [Grub]

A peek inside a shuttered Greenpoint soda fountain. [GVDP]

A glimpse of St. Marks and 3rd in 1983. [FP]

"Years ago, the Paris Blues was a hotbed of antigentrification... Now, it may be the only watering hole in Harlem where Rudolph W. Giuliani is thought of as a hero." [CR]

Pics of punks in Tompkins Square Park. [SG]

Next weekend: Check out the Bushwick Open Studios.

June 6: Tour Woodside with Forgotten NY.

Last Meal at Gino

Gino closed this weekend, after many close calls and last-minute saves. I went for a "last meal" back in January and it wasn't my last. But this weekend was it. It seems the whole city knew about the landmark's passing and they all showed up to say goodbye to this wonderful piece of old New York.





One couple came because they met at Gino a decade ago. "It's just too sad," said the husband, ordering their drinks.

A woman in leopard print, who looked like an elegant and gracefully aged Kim Novak, flew in all the way from the West Coast just to bid the restaurant farewell. She talked about the famous zebra wallpaper--which she installed on the walls of her own bathroom back home. She special ordered it from Scalamandre. The wait time was 36 months, but it was worth it.



And the regulars were all there. One gentlemanly silver-haired fellow looked at the growing crowd and said, "If only it had been this busy all the time. It wouldn't be closing."

A woman with a husky voice sipped Campari and sodas. She had one more than her usual number. She said, "I was practically born here. I can't explain how I feel at this bar. Safe. I feel safe. Like I'm home. Is that silly? I don't know what I'm going to do now."



People hugged the owners and said, "I'm gonna miss you." Camera flashes popped in every corner. The telephone never stopped ringing. It was answered, when it was answered, with an accented "Hello, Gino?" The crowd roared. Couples kissed and stroked each other's arms, seeking comfort. Drinks spilled. Dishes clattered. The waiters ran up and down, counting stacks of money, carrying dishes, forgetting forks.



At the end of my last meal, the white tablecloth covered in crumbs, ravioli and meatballs gone, the waiter asked, "Finito?"

"Finito," I said. And that was all.


Is that you, Gay Talese, in your white straw hat?

More coverage of Gino's last weekend:
Lost City
New York Post