Staying in to go out... APT - NYC.
My girl Joy hit me in the mobile and said, "We're going to end the night at apartment." Now to most this would sound like a lame end to any night out. Ah, but this was no ordinary apartment. This was APT.
Imagine having the apartment of your big city dreams; a loft space with intimate hallways, cozy nooks and a cavernous main room complete with a stone balcony to boot. Include all the furnishings and fineries that take the palce from "cozy" to tipping the scales at "lush". That would be major, but that's not it. Throw in a finished lower level with a bar and security entrances. Riiiight. Now what would all of this cost you? A small cover and whatever you're eating or drinking.
APT is just that, a New York City lounge/club in the Meatpacking District known for the juxtaposition of warehouses and some of the trendiest nightspots in NYC. The door is classically understated, almost camouflaged, adding to the cool with a speak-easy, only the cool kids know type of vibe. Once inside I'm are greated by a staff that really makes me feel like you've stepped into a friend's house party so I oblige by exchanging names and conversation with them. Tara, the cutie at the door the the lower bar has a deadly smile and sense of humor to match so I chat for a bit to get the skinny on the downstairs party. I stroll down the candy-striped hallway leading to the living room lounge. It's like taking a deep breath and then "ahhhhhh" when you hit the end of the hall emptying into a low-lit auburn and plum room.
I take a seat with my crew around a table at the foot of a bed (yes a bed) and we commence to order libations. Our wait-staff member A.C., is a lanky young lady with a pension for dancing to the ambient beats while she waits for her orders to be filled. She slides over to me to ask what I might want as i joke with her, "Hey A.C., you cool like a fan?" "You know it baby. What can I get you?" Ah, that's the vibe all night, every night at APT.
My man Akalepse spins the illest mix of old soul and down-tempo beats that chill the room out, maintaining our ease, but I'm want to venture below to see what's the happs downstairs. The striped hallway acts as a warning track signaling that I am leaving the cool of the lounge as I hit the small lobby and run into Tara again and she gives me that smile and I make my way downstairs. I float right into Hip Hop heaven as the DJ is spinning just about every old school classic I could think of. The entire lower bar is buzzing with drinks and sounds as every head in the place nods on time and shouts the songs word for word as if this was school and we were reciting the Pleadge of Allegiance. From their the night was a euphoric blur.
4am: I find myself cooling in a stoop just outside the unmarked door. Tired, delightfully buzzed, and sharing laughs with my guys about the night that transpired. A swift cab ride to the Upper East Side and an easy grin etched on my mug tell all the story that need be told. "What did you do last night?" "Oh, I stayed at the APT all night, no big deal."
---
Steve G. of the YP
Imagine having the apartment of your big city dreams; a loft space with intimate hallways, cozy nooks and a cavernous main room complete with a stone balcony to boot. Include all the furnishings and fineries that take the palce from "cozy" to tipping the scales at "lush". That would be major, but that's not it. Throw in a finished lower level with a bar and security entrances. Riiiight. Now what would all of this cost you? A small cover and whatever you're eating or drinking.
APT is just that, a New York City lounge/club in the Meatpacking District known for the juxtaposition of warehouses and some of the trendiest nightspots in NYC. The door is classically understated, almost camouflaged, adding to the cool with a speak-easy, only the cool kids know type of vibe. Once inside I'm are greated by a staff that really makes me feel like you've stepped into a friend's house party so I oblige by exchanging names and conversation with them. Tara, the cutie at the door the the lower bar has a deadly smile and sense of humor to match so I chat for a bit to get the skinny on the downstairs party. I stroll down the candy-striped hallway leading to the living room lounge. It's like taking a deep breath and then "ahhhhhh" when you hit the end of the hall emptying into a low-lit auburn and plum room.
I take a seat with my crew around a table at the foot of a bed (yes a bed) and we commence to order libations. Our wait-staff member A.C., is a lanky young lady with a pension for dancing to the ambient beats while she waits for her orders to be filled. She slides over to me to ask what I might want as i joke with her, "Hey A.C., you cool like a fan?" "You know it baby. What can I get you?" Ah, that's the vibe all night, every night at APT.
My man Akalepse spins the illest mix of old soul and down-tempo beats that chill the room out, maintaining our ease, but I'm want to venture below to see what's the happs downstairs. The striped hallway acts as a warning track signaling that I am leaving the cool of the lounge as I hit the small lobby and run into Tara again and she gives me that smile and I make my way downstairs. I float right into Hip Hop heaven as the DJ is spinning just about every old school classic I could think of. The entire lower bar is buzzing with drinks and sounds as every head in the place nods on time and shouts the songs word for word as if this was school and we were reciting the Pleadge of Allegiance. From their the night was a euphoric blur.
4am: I find myself cooling in a stoop just outside the unmarked door. Tired, delightfully buzzed, and sharing laughs with my guys about the night that transpired. A swift cab ride to the Upper East Side and an easy grin etched on my mug tell all the story that need be told. "What did you do last night?" "Oh, I stayed at the APT all night, no big deal."
---
Steve G. of the YP
posted by Stevie G. the RDQLUS One at 10:18 PM
0 comments
