[Alex Goldberg at Peasant. Photo from NY Mag]

Ruff! Stanley here…so I wasn’t going to post on this kid, but decided to anyway, so that world can see what giving unguarded freedom to a child will create (a monster).  In this week’s New York Magazine, on newsstands today, there was an entire article devoted to Alex Goldberg…the “Mayor of Nolita”, as his older sister calls him, that thinks he’s hot shit.  This fatso has had “free reign” over the streets of nolita since before he can remember, establishing himself amongst shop owners, models, night club owners, rappers, actors, and athletes alike.  He’s held jobs at Supreme on Lafayette, NikeID, and helped out at Peasant, DiPalo’s, and Papabubble.  He’s also only 14.  Many think he’s like a man trapped in a child’s body, but I’m not fooled.  I think he’s just a shitty kid that doesn’t want to listen to a single adult and that has idiot parents that like that their 14 year old can get them into Nobu.  This is one of the most pathetic profiles written by New York Magazine, so pathetic that you won’t be able to stop reading it.

Alex goes to the James Taylor concert in the Hamptons this summer and is disinterested in who that even is, and would rather talk to an NBA player than Paul McCartney.  He makes fun of Dune, claiming that Bungalow 8 is much better anyway, and smokes fake fags on Lafayette.  Who the fuck does this kid think he is? First of all, me and my DAWGS have been running around Nolita much longer than this kid, who’s claim-to-fame came after sneaking out to hang with wanna-be celebs at a party at the Delano in Miami last year.   His parents claim that they worry about him losing his childhood, yet they are so lenient with him that they fail to ground him for sneaking out.  No, instead they let him party with his newly made freinds (more than triple his age) for the rest of the vacation.  He calls them by their names (Rich and Robin) and frequently tells them to fuck off.  Sweet. Sounds like a gem to me.  If this child makes one dime off of my city or this magazine write up, I may have to take a bite out of his be-hind.  Until the day comes, I will be anticipating his “growing up”….because god knows this city is a tough bitch and chubby 14 year olds may be interesting to see hustling around town now, but in a couple years he will be a has-been with a coke addiction, a balding head, and 40 more pounds on his frame. Ruff!

Wtf is Sean Lennon doing lending his name brand to Francesco Civetta’s clothing line Izzy Gold?

Sean and Oliva Palermo’s BF Brad Leinhardt (far left) keeping it real?

Denise Kaufmann Razzouk, the second most connected person on A Small World (asmallworld.net), the uber exclusive social-network for jet-setters and euros, was recently interviewed and asked questions about herself and her new handbag line.  We have yet to see many of her wares, but it will be interesting to see what she can leverage out of her recent small world fame, and see if there is any real sort of economic staying power to niche networks that cater to the supposed elite.

Here are pictures taken 10 minutes ago outside the 5th Avenue Apple store.  It is crazy hot and humid out.  We hope these guys are enjoying the 10 seconds of fame they will be getting from this little stunt of theirs.

Yes, Amy Sacco, New York’s Queen of Mean Nightclubs is going the route of Donald Trump, by leveraging her now famous “name brand” every which way from Sunday.  Recent exploits include:

• “Creative Design” consultant at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas
• “Lifestyle Consulting” for the District Condominiums in New Yorks’ Financial District
• Opening a Bungalow 8 spin-off at the St. Martins Lane Hotel in London

Like Trump, she owns no real tangible assets save her name.  Bungalow 8, while certainly a social success, was by no means an economic success.  That is why its a bit peculiar why the Morgans Hotel Group is so quick to jump into bed with her.  Moreover, we’re going to suggest that a place like District (upscale luxury condos) probably shouldn’t be taking lifestyle tips from a person who a) created a smokey drug-infested warren for the likes of Lindsay Lohan, and b) lives anything but a healthy lifestyle. 

And why, according to the New York Observer is she taking a reverse red eye to LA at 5 am in the morning.  Perhaps she isn’t doing all that well much aside from blowing a lot of hot air?

With all of the terrible female role-models out there (not naming names…Paris Hilton…ahem…Lindsay Lohan…ahem), its wonderful to see a a young lady who is not only beautiful, but talented and deserving of much attention. Enter Allison Stokke, a southern California highschool pole-vaulter and holder of several amatuer records. Apparently she has been taking the blogosphere by storm, and we thought we would add to the groundswell and applaud her for her accomplishments. Jump High!

…is not Tinsley Mortimer (who’s ringlets and smirk are beyond passé), Amy Sacco; (the “Queen of the New York night scene” has finally lost her reign, well at least until her hotel opens up in the financial district), or even Hilary Clinton (though at the top of the Post’s “NY’s 50 Most Powerful Women” she doesn’t hold a candle this month to this lady). For the most in-the-know social New Yorkers, Spring 2007 will be remembered as the season of Miriam.

We are only half joking by giving such recognition to the once no-name door girl who is, it seems, at the peak of her career as we post.

Miriam is it.

She is the one who dictates who will and will not be getting into arguably the only place to be partying in the city right now, the little establishment on Chrystie and Rivington that is trying to save us all from the FUNK of a mess created by 27th street/meatpacking….The Box.

Bungalow 8 has had its run, and Tenjune is fun if you’re a spoiled 16 year old at a Colombia prep bday party, but Hammerstein’s Box has proven that if anything is going to help pick us up from being elbow to elbow with B&T scraps it’s going to take a show…and an EXTRAVAGANT one at that. The view from the top floor where the private seating areas are, offer a perfect vantage to take in full the craziness that ensues each night here, as well as an inside look at just how pathetic most celebrities are (and extremely poor tippers).

If you haven’t heard of the place, you have in fact been living in a box…if you have and should opt to try and witness the human oddities and circus acts (both on stage and in the crowd), you will undoubtedly come in contact with Miriam….

There’s one conflicting issue, Miriam is actually…nice. We can’t decide if this makes us more annoyed with her position or not. Sometimes it’s just better to be told “I’m sorry if you don’t have a table, you’re not famous, and you’re not fucking a manager here, don’t even try standing in this line.” This is what we were used to and what we came to expect from doormen named Disco and the like in the beginning. It’s what kept us intrigued, made us want to be inside those doors more than we’ve ever wanted anything else. That kind of rejection felt, well “right”. It made the times we did get in feel so much better, validated our pathetic existences.

Being told in a sweet voice how sorry she was that she couldn’t let us in because of “plumbing issues” one Saturday night after just seeing a crew waltz in 10 minutes earlier kindof made the next Wednesday early morning there a little less special. We like your style Miriam, and your vespa, all we are asking for is to be treated a little more like dirt.

Thanks.

Everyone has a book, everyone is an actor, and now everyone has their own nightclub…According to the New York Observer, It seems that Armin Amiri, famed doorman from Bungalow 8, is going to try and parlay his doorman skills into success as the proprietor of a new café-lounge titled Socialista in the West Village.   The cuisine is described as Cuban infused with an Argentine influence, which we can only conclude is simply a fancy way of saying Mexican food. So how did he get the inspiration for such a venture? “I saw it and I just saw Cuba.”   Mr. Amiri, however, has never been to Cuba, nor does he speak Spanish or have any Cuban background to speak of.   He also did not live in the 1940’s.   “Back in the old days-you know, the 1940’s-when you went out, it was all about respect.”  But he does posses a working definition of socialism:

“What socialism really means is, I give you this and you give me that. And as the door goes, I’m gonna bring you into this nice atmosphere; hopefully, you’re going to bring your great energy in here. And that’s it-that’s the only even exchange I want with people.

What is of course omitted in his neo-socialism is the required $600 dollar table expense.  Perhaps most troubling, however, is Mr. Amiri’s apparent confusion between Casablanca (i.e. Morocco) and Cuba, as well as the fact that in New York the sun does set, and there are dark cold winters.  “And do you see that light?” (addressing the sun through a pair of tortoise-shell vintage Persols). It’s gonna create that Casablanca effect all the time.” Lest there be any concern, however, Mr. Amiri will be putting his acting career on hold for now to focus on the task at hand.