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Sally does Donald TRUMP.
What do you get when you mix black tie accoutrement, Donald Trump’s United World Bar, a young socialite who has pull (the very affable Sally Shan), and the power of Facebook connections? You might be surprised, but you actually...
Bizarre Encounters
The ONES. Photography by Mark Reay.
There is nothing that could have prepared me for the fantastic freak show that was Mel’s World. Hosted last Thursday night by Austrian party princess, Mel Merio, at the hip West Village hideout, Le Royale, the...
The Green Conspiracy.
Is going green a sham? Saving the environment is quite the noble sentiment, but with all the faddish vegan diets, eco-friendly couture and designer hemp grocery bags, I have to wonder if “green” is nothing more than our decade’s...
Perfect 10 Cougars… in search of a Desperate Reality.
In what kind of world do all the major publications send their young journalists to a cumbersome club, flood the place with pint sized cocktails, and instruct them to queue themselves in order attain an interview with two B-list...
At the Chloe. And who Exactly is She?
Femme fatale? Slinky? Androgynous? Reminiscent of another epoch? She’s a hard one to pin down. Last night we came to finally meet her at 81 Ludlow st.
She reminds me of a girl I used to date back in Paris,...
A Night out at Tribeca Grand. Thinking of you Barack Obama.
Debonair? Charismatic? Fashionable? Intelligent? Savoir faire? We’ve been hearing about the optimism surrounding the newly elected presidency of Barack Obama. That said, we decided to find for ourselves if a town is ready for new sensibilities.
It’s a Tuesday night...
Vivid dreams and Pandora’s Box.
Redhook, Brooklyn. We’ve been trudging through the sleet for just under an hour, cursing ourselves and wondering if snow flakes will get in the way of us lighting another cigarette. Up ahead we can make out the visage of...
Meditations of a Disco beat at Merkato 55; Post Siesta. Part 1.
We here at Scallywag and Vagabond have been inspired, nay, seduced by the candor of slinky femme fatales, exfoliated cheek bones, sashaying disco beats and the allure of a porcelain crowd that does it’s best to imitate a Vogue...
This Is What Happens When You Eat Vodka for Breakfast.Merkato 55, part 2.
I never thought I would find backless shirts and eggs benedict in the same room. Of course, that was before I attended Merkato 55’s belligerent brunch. A bizarre combination of Isabella’s and Ibiza, the Koch Brothers’ weekly Saturday extravaganza...
Bijoux goes off the Cliff! Revelry in 2009.
If one has ever wondered what’s it like to sustain an evening with bated breath, perky somethings, managed misbehavior and the incredulity that the world’s sexiest, cosmopolitan and naughty crowd could exist, then one needed to drop by Bijoux...
Mercato 55 lights up. New Year’s Revelry. Where’s my Tiara?
There’s an adage that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but last Wednesday whilst at Mercato 55 we suddenly came to terms with the idea that debauchery and giddy delight is the nominator of all those who...
URB Magazine at 105 Rivington. How the Glitterati came and Danced.
For some of us this might be the time of year to be heading off to ice packed airports, pine nestled gourmet stores and Christmas bon bons. But for a certain select crowd it’s also that that time of...
Living the life of a Socialite. Another Mad Dash to look Beautiful. Turning up to Guest of a Guest’s...
One of the prerequisites of being a socialite or at least covering the affairs of socialites is that one has to immerse themselves in the subtleties of behaving and looking as someone who spends the greater part of the...
A Night out with Kenny Kenny and Susan Bartsch. What’s a Girl To Do?
It’s a Sunday night and we’re standing inside the GreenHouse wondering how brilliant and fantastic everything is. Where we are is some where in New York City, but that’s just an idle fact. Where we are is Alice in...
Oops I did it again! Scallywag turns up to Papercut: “Flying by the Seat of our Pants.”
We’re not even a block away from Heist gallery and we can already see the Louis Vuitton handbags flapping in the wind and the idle cigarettes careening all the way down from 27 Essex Street. Approaching the box size...
