The Kingdom of New York: Knights, Knaves, Billionaires, and Beauties in the City of Big Shots by The New York Observer

The Kingdom of New York: Knights, Knaves, Billionaires, and Beauties in the City of Big Shots by The New York Observer

Author:The New York Observer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Language Arts & Disciplines, MD, Middle Atlantic (NJ, Northeast, State & Local, Journalism, Travel, DE, New York (N.Y.), NJ, General, United States, NY, Middle Atlantic, Middle Atlantic (DC, PA), Newspapers, History
ISBN: 9780061695407
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2009-10-23T04:25:11+00:00


APRIL 17, 2000 BY ALEXANDRA JACOBS

The Observatory; Remember the Royalton?

Illustrated by Barry Blitt

THE CONDÉ NAST CAFETERIA has only been open a week, but it’s already clear which part is Siberia.

The 10,000-square-foot, Frank Gehry-designed, track-lighted, fourth-floor space is dominated by a raised dining area enclosed by thick glass petals. The effect is slightly vaginal, accented by hanging chrome lamps that look like Fallopian tubes or sea anemones. Approximately two thirds of the restaurant’s 200 diners will be eating inside this elevated region. Huddled therein on an ecru banquette with one’s morning paper splayed out on a sunny yellow table, watching the late-morning rush of young mermaids picking up their fruit smoothies ($2.75) against a backdrop of sinuous titanium-blue walls, one might conclude that the architect had achieved a peaceful underwater effect.

But at the height of lunch hour, 1 p.m., noise collects inside the aquarium, and fast. Suddenly you’re trapped amid the peasantry, with its lunch pails and clattering forks. Glancing down at the unfinished pale wood floors, you realize you’re at the Royalton by way of Ikea. The occasional loudspeaker announcement of “fire drill on the 32nd floor” does not add to the atmosphere.

The cafeteria—called, of course, Cafeteria—is run by Restaurant Associates, a company that owns some dependable, two-star restaurants in New York such as Cafe Centro and Brasserie, and R.A. has stocked the room with lots of employees in matching gray shirts who lurk and linger, like a troop of super-efficient Oompa-Loompas, ready to wipe down your table the instant you make for the door. You bus your own table, by the way, depositing your tray on a three-tiered conveyer belt. Some Condé Nast employees seem to think this beneath them.



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