Cappuccino Thoughts 117: On the Hottest Club in Manhattan is in the Back of a Ukrainian Restaurant
+ a new NYC memoir and why I'm done with pop-ups (for now)
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Behind a pierogi-stuffed Ukrainian restaurant—past the patrons quietly shoveling stewed cabbage into their mouths and asking for more tea—is New York City’s hottest dance club.
Line dancing, that is.
I was having dinner with a friend at the Ukrainian East Village Restaurant (a name so literal it bypasses branding and lands squarely in Soviet-era signage) when we heard thumping from inside the building. “A bar mitzvah? A wedding?” we wondered. When I saw someone I knew from college emerge, visibly sweaty but oddly serene, I flagged her down. “Line dancing,” she said, like that was the obvious answer.
Clearly, I had to investigate.
My friend A. and I decided to return, but had to wait for another beginner night. When the fateful Tuesday arrived, A. pulled up the website and it said sold out. Sold out?! Who were these people?!
Luckily, we had a Plan B. We showed up early to enjoy some heavy starches and were able to sneak our way in. In the hallway, we consulted with some girls who had the air of off-duty dance captains and were directed toward the bar. There, embedded within the Ukrainian Cultural Center—which, side note, appears to contain no fewer than five completely unrelated businesses—we found women handing out playing cards. A. received the 8 of clubs. I got the 3 of spades.
What did it mean? A test? A ranking? A metaphor? We never found out.
I donned my cowboy boots, purchased years ago for a Barbie costume and long presumed retired, and stepped from Eastern Europe into an East Village fever dream.
The room was full of hipsters in cowboy boots and deeply ironic t-shirts: 365 Party Girl. Lord of the Dance. One simply read: Get Lucky.
A. spotted a former co-worker, and I seized the opportunity to ask her what exactly we had walked into.
“Oh, line is super popular,” she said, like I had just asked whether people still use the subway. “I do line all the time.”
I paused. Did she mean… lines? Like, plural? Or did I just accidentally get invited to a much cooler party?
“And it’s historically a safe space for queer people,” she added.
“Totally,” I replied.
Now listen, who am I to tell someone where they feel safe and find community? If that happens to be in the back of a Ukrainian restaurant listening to country music, that’s awesome. More power to you. I’m just not convinced that the modern form of line dancing, which broke into the mainstream with country hunk Billy Ray Cyrus’s “Achy Breaky Heart” is historically a place for queer expression. But what do I know?
Clearly, not that much! Which I quickly realized when the host popped on a country classic and showed us a “beginner” dance number. I twirled and bumped into enough people that I went into self-exile on the side of the row. Now I understood the instruction to stay on the end of a line as a beginner.
After our host played “Country Girl Shake It For Me” approximately one million and five times in a row on half-speed, I finally felt like I had the hang of it. I even partook in a bit of heel clicking, enjoying the satisfying thump of my Barbie cowboy boots smacking against the wooden floor. I enjoyed the camaraderie I found in everyone clapping at the end of an eight-count. I even got over my annoyance with people clapping in unison (it’s NEVER in unison, and it ALWAYS seems distracting to the performers).
Just as I was starting to feel competent—maybe even cool—I spotted her.
The Ringer.
White fringe boots. A t-shirt-to-spandex-shorts ratio that should not have worked but absolutely did. She wasn’t just dancing, she was performing. A high kick here, a seductive shoulder roll there.
I immediately shrank back a row.
But there was no hiding. The host then announced, “Okay, now those of you who know this one, go for it! Everyone else, just pick it up as we go.”
Reader, I did not pick it up. My feet were actively bleeding (not metaphorically), and my brain was buffering. A. looked at me and just… shook her head. We fled.
But not for long. We’ll return—just as soon as we figure out what a half-sailor step is and how it differs from the full-pirate. And once the blisters heal.
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A reminder that I’ll be joining
on Friday at 10am EST for a conversation about culture and creativity. More here.
I joined my very first outdoor market last weekend in Greenpoint. I really loved chatting with other vendors and was amazed by how many of them have turned their craft into their full-time work. Impressive! I, on the other hand, am popped out for a while. I’ve already done more this year than I planned, and it’s definitely a lot!
I saw ANNA WINTOUR at the Met this weekend!!!!! She must have been doing a walk-through of the Costume Collection for the Met Gala, which is today! She was so immediately recognizable with that perfect bob that does not move and her huge sunglasses that she was indeed wearing indoors. I didn’t say anything, but I did smile at her and she gave me a half-smile back (I’ll take it). Genuinely the best possible NYC star sighting I could think of. Seeing her in situ at the Met before the Gala was the cherry on top.
I read Lola Kirke’s (not a) memoir, Wild West Village last weekend. She is the daughter of rockstar Simon Kirke and sister of Jemima Kirke (Jessa from Girls) and Domino Kirke (most recently known for being Penn Badgley’s wife). Her family sounds like a therapist’s gold mine—zero boundaries, parents acting like children and the children having to act as the adults, sex, drugs, and alcohol everywhere. It’s an interesting portrait of a very particular kind of childhood in New York. I picked it up because I really enjoyed the show Mozart in the Jungle, which she starred in. Ultimately it’s a fun book for an easy breezy read. It did focus mostly on her family and upbringing. I wish she had focused a little bit more on her work (for instance,the chapter about her TV show focused more on how Gabriel Garcia Bernal tried to date her and her sister at the same time than on what it felt like to star in that show). Three stars.
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This week, I am seeing Paquita at the ballet and going to my first influencer event lol.
All my best,
I love this! This is the magic of what makes New York New York