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The Box

By Britten • Apr 18th, 2009 • Category: ENTERTAINMENT
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The evening began by meeting my fantavulous and vivacious hostess of the evening, event planner and publicist extraordinaire- Christine Coppinger. Dressed to kill and a megawatt smile that lit up her eyes, Christine chatted me up on our way the ever so exclusive The Box.

Now all I had heard thus far was: a) you could not just show up and expect to get in, you had to have rezzies at a bottle service table or be on the list, b) there is nothing like it in Manhattan, and c) expect the unexpected.

Okay…

Hence, I decided to not try and figure out what this place was. Sure I grew up in the tri-state area and went to the underground galleries and lofts of the East Village and Soho in the 80′s (thanks Mom and Dad) and spent many high school evenings partaking in the the “scene” that was NYC back in the day (sorry Mom and Dad). However, it’s long since the days of keys, cards or those little tiny ziplocs manufactured for one reason, to grant entry into the latest hot spot.

So, like a transplant from Kansas City, as Christine gave her name to one of three door guys dressed in vests, one with a bowler hat, and general 20′s gangster style, I belted,”I feel like we’re going into a speakeasy during the prohibition!” Hopefully, they either could have cared less who I was to even care what was coming out of my freshly glossed lips, or ignored me out of courtesy to Christine.

Regardless, the door opened for us and Christine pushed aside the velvet curtain…

Fantastic.

Two gorgeous crystal chandeliers lit the deep oak bar, garnished with two male bartenders in similar garb as the door dudes. Everywhere was an unmistakable decor of another time. I felt like I was in Doris Duke and Mrs. Astor’s estate sale, amidst a flea market in an Upstate New York town; minus the must and Guerlain Shalimar perfume scent.

Faded velvet cushions, a mini wooded rocking horse, dodged photographs from the year one, and I swear there were a few lace doilies around. My eyes were in heaven and awe.

Christine led me around, giving me the lay of the land, and informed me there was to be a show. We walked into the main room, adorned with banquettes and and tables- reservations and bottle service only. And at the far end: a closed curtain adorning a stage. I looked up to see sheer curtains hanging above the balcony.

We headed upstairs where I discovered the uber privee booths and immediately envisioned Moulin Rouge- men in silk top hats and women in lace and gabardine dresses with beaucoup cleavage, leaning over the banisters cheering on -La Revue de la Femme.

I absolutely adored this place and nothing had really happened yet, despite the fact that it was just before 2am.

We headed back downstairs, found a spot at the bar and dutifully sipped our champagne.

The energy was magnificent, but I couldn’t quite make out the crowd. It was by NO means B&T, yet, I couldn’t help but feel a little disconnect. Just then, some definite New Yorkers walked past me to reveal a guy dancing tout seul, with the light of his mobile acting as a glowstick… Euro. Come on, he had this all worked out, nobodies back-light stays on that long. But who doesn’t love a little opulence from a guy who acts like he doesn’t give a f*#k, but is really saying- check me out…?

Beat.

A rush to the main room, and Christine sprung up and took me with her.

MC: Raven- the man with a ridiculous set of abs to match his persona, started the show and inclusively, it was part Hedwig and the Angry Inch (minus the inch and add a back tatt of a tiger), Cirque du Soleil, Madonna in her Vogue/Sex book period, and part David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust. All this was reminiscent of the underground punk pop art scene of late 70′s London, with the millennium flair of half nude Silk acrobatic performers.

I’d go further into detail, but you will just have to find out for yourselves, and you must, I insist. I’d also provide detail on how to do so, but The Box is just that exclusive and I am fond of the fact that they have managed to retain their integrity and privacy of those who enjoy the establishment.

Conclusion: Pearls meets leather and lace corset. This is one experience you absolutely have to have. I think it would be the perfect place for a special event or private party. Yes- they not only do those, but they love to. Lucky me, my birthday is this summer and I think I know who’s planning it and where it’s going to be…

*photos courtesy of Raven-O

** Special thank you to Christine Coppinger, and The Box for being an impressive, unique, and stellar venue.

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Britten is born and raised in New Jersey and spent her 20’s breaking hearts in California, getting her MFA in writing along the way. Now she’s back in NYC, ready to disclose her scandalous tales and mint some new ones. Can’t live without: Kiehl’s lip balm, her Pucci clutch, and L’eau d’Issey. See more of her at http://www.scenebseen.com
All posts by Britten

2 Responses »

  1. great article!! ive heard so much about the box..im scared of it

  2. Fantastic review, just enough info to paint an enticeing picture, while leaving sufficent intrigue to keep the mystery in tact.

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