Though we swore never to enter the meatpacking district again, this Saturday we crossed the river Styx and ventured down to Randy Scott's new haunt, Kiss and Fly. The party was definitely charged, and the cavernous space was quite over the top, packed wall to wall, replete with models and bottles.
There was a ubiquity of euros, confirming our suspicions that the Chelsea crowd of Pink Elephant and Cain had merely been transplanted. Of course this can't come as much of a surprise since Randy used to work at both places.
What is also interesting is that they attached a restaurant to the club, and the maitre d' is none other than Aymeric Clemente from Le Bilboquet. Quite fitting, since Aymreic is the island's preeminent euro jetset wrangler. But that being said, there must be something about the cigarette smoke of euros and the pounding of music that is injurious to the soul, because we woke up the next morning feeling a bit out of whack.
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