Le Pilage

A new bar, a burnt purse, the movie theater laughing epidemic

Texting with a friend this morning who says she knows “20+ people who have lost every possession they own” in the Southern California forest fires, we pontificate if this disaster will lead to many, many more moves/returns to New York, as it really is the only other option for so many Los Angelenos. There are the artists, the A-list and entertainment industry types, those whose lives revolve around high end retail, event planning, journalism and other forms of media, and more broadly, sociable people who simply can’t imagine a lifestyle change so drastic as living in a smaller or more conservative or non-American city, without anyone they already know, understandably. It doesn’t look good for the housing market here, but maybe some Altadena-esque energy is exactly what New York needs.

A new bar on Essex near Rivington opened a few days ago and as of now I love it. A paper sign taped to a door says its address, hours, and that it’s called Funny Bar. There are no windows. A large, unfinished vestibule has a coat check and host stand, but this feels premature, as the lighting in this room is still like that of some rec center entryway. A friend has told me to meet her here but I arrive first and run into another friend, who is, she tells me, the new manager here. This is promising. She asks me how I heard of the place, how anyone has already, and points down. “The floors are still bare concrete,” she laughs.