her name was beatrice

{pic courtesy of here}

i dedicate a moment of silence to a nyc nightlife icon that has recently fallen……..the beatrice inn.

i had the pleasure of dancing the night away at the infamous, smoky, mysterious spot and was looking forward to another visit with my girlfriends. looks like i’ll put away my dancing shoes until further notice…..

and gawker‘s poetic obituary of the inn couldn’t be better written….

“If the Beatrice Inn were to close forever, rather than just temporarily, what would we say at its funeral? Because we’re feeling wistful this afternoon, we’re going to attempt something of a eulogy.

The Beatrice itself was born many, many years ago. It was once a speakeasy, back in those ratty days of prohibition. But its current incarnation—the….smokey…..den—sprang to life in 2006, when Paul Sevigny, the brother of actress Chloë, masterminded, along with his partners, a bar/restaurant that would return some classic bar elements to New York. Italian-food specials and jacket-and-tie nights. Old New York, Carrie Bradshaw might neighingly call it.

But, you know, instead it mostly catered to those who could slink past a velvet rope, those who, giddy with abandon because New York was rich and everyone was young all the way back in 2006, wanted to sit in its dark, low-ceiling’d recesses and chain smoke…… And there was dancing. Oh was there dancing. So you could say, in some sideways measure, an aura of Old New York did surround the Bea. It was a bit dangerous, a bit wild, and it was definitely mean, in that fashionable kind of way.”

here’s to you, beatrice….


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