#Bowery Beret | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

geek-patient-zero · 5 years

Text

Part 2, Chapter 1

Or: Gratuitous? I'll Show You Gratuitous

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Before starting Part 2, Robert Weinberg gives us another Edgar Allan Poe quote. This one’s from the short story “Ligeia”.

That she loved me I should not have doubted; and I might have been easily aware that, in a bosom such as hers, love would have reigned as no ordinary passion.

Who could this chapter be about, I wonder?

New York, NY—March 14, 1994

The most dangerous woman in the world rose each day with the sun.

She lived in the penthouse suite on top of one of the tallest skyscrapers in New York City. The building, from foundation to lightning rod, belonged to her. Few New Yorkers realized that the owner lived on the premises. Even fewer knew what she looked like or how much she was really worth. None were aware of the other, darker secrets the structure held.

A strong start so far. From here, the chapter will emphasize four things when introducing our new protagonist, Alicia Varney:

She’s super hot

She’s super horny

She loves being alive to a decadent degree

She’s a ruthless and unapologetic member of the 1%

In that order. Look, it’s the 90′s, this is a nerd property, and the story’s talking about a woman. You knew where this was going.

The name “Varney” might be a reference to Varney the Vampire; or, the Feast of Blood by either James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest. It was a penny dreadful vampire story that predated both Carmilla and Dracula and introduced several classic vampire tropes, like fangs that leave two puncture wounds and hypnotic powers. It’s also remembered for being terrible, so it’s maybe not the best story to associate your own book with.

As the sun rises, the light shines through her windows and slowly creeps over her lush carpet to her king-size bed.

It splashed across bright red silk sheets until it crested like a wave on the nude body of the woman sprawled in deep sleep in the middle of the crimson sea.

‘Cause sleeping naked on top of your bed covers is what anyone does when they live in New York City, a hundred floors up, in mid-March.

Her dark hair flared around her head in a halo, the sleeper had the face of an angel. And the body of a devil.

Her features, young and wrinkle-free, glowing pink with perfect health, were those of a twenty-five year old. Her body was taut and lean, well-muscled and deeply bronzed. Firm breasts, long, tapered legs, and flared hips proclaimed her one of those rare beauties who looked exceptional either dressed or undressed.

She must also smell like a gym sock dipped in stale perfume, given that she’s just waking up.

Quick comparison: In Part 1, Chapter 1 we didn’t get a physical description of McCann for about two and a half pages, and when we did all we were told was that he was a “big, broad-shouldered man” along with his height and weight. Before then we learned his name, profession, the situation he was in, what he’d been doing in the recent past and what he’s doing at present, and some exposition about a different character. For Varney, we get some brief hints at her wealth and power before being presented with a Playboy centerfold description three paragraphs into the first page of the chapter.

The sunshine caressed her face, causing the woman to smile in her sleep. Sighing softly, she rolled over, burying her head in the silk.

Varney has a grand old time waking up. She wipes the sleep from her eyes (or as we of the lower classes would describe it, scrapes off the hardened crust gluing her eyelids shut), does some lazy, sensual stretches, and shimmies her shoulders and back against the sheets to enjoy the feeling of them against her skin. After that “face of an angel/body of a devil” stuff it’s not like Weinberg was gonna write her groaning, scratching herself, and farting.

Still, I gotta call bullshit on this next line.

It feels good to be alive, thought Alicia Varney. It feels very good to be alive.

I don’t care who you are, how high your Humanity stat is, or how much you love being alive. No one likes waking up at sunrise.

Varney shuffles herself over to the intercom on her nightstand to alert the help.

“The princess in the tower has arisen,” the young woman declared. Her voice, low and sultry, was as smooth as melted honey.

That’d be the morning phlegm doing that.

She requests her usual breakfast and says she should be out of the shower by the time it arrives. The voice on the other end of the intercom acknowledging her wishes is a guy named Sanford Jackson, and he’s one of those fictional servants who’d be overqualified for their job if their employer was your average rich person. A former Green Beret and CIA troubleshooter, Jackson now serves as Alicia Varney’s manservant, chauffeur, bodyguard, and all-around sidekick.

And emergency cock.

During the rare periods where she was without a lover, he handled that job with reasonable competency as well.

“Reasonable competency,” hmm? Can’t tell if that’s a playfully coy way of saying he’s an excellent lover or a polite way of saying he’s meh.

Whatever his sexual skill level, the thought of Jackson’s “hard, muscular body” excites Varney. For the past few nights she’s been going through one of those previously mentioned rare loverless periods.

It was a situation she meant to remedy as soon as possible. Alicia Varney squeezed every drop of pleasure possible out of life. She did not like being denied anything for very long.

Still, she’s not quite desperate enough to fuck the help yet. Smart, since you don’t want a henchman in your stable getting too attached. It could also be evidence for the second of my two theories about Jackson’s Athletics ability.

Varney jumps into the shower, and as expected the narration doesn’t waste time on mundane actions like her scrubbing her armpits or rinsing the dandruff off of her scalp. Nor does Weinberg do the average male author thing of writing the woman doing an exotic dance in the shower while describing the water running down this curve and that tit. Nah, he skips all that and has Varney just go for it.

A few minutes under hot, pulsating streams of water, along with a session with the magnificent detachable shower nozzle, would serve for the moment.

You could give Weinberg credit for writing a woman masturbating for her own pleasure, rather than as foreplay or to show how lonely, pathetic, and manless she is, but keep in mind Varney’s only doing it because she didn’t have the real thing at the moment.

But self-stimulation was no substitute for the real thing. Later today she would go on the prowl. She needed a man.

We’ve only known Alicia Varney for two pages and I’ve read more about her struggling with her libido than I have Kindred with their inner Beasts since the start of the book.

When she steps out of the shower, Jackson has her breakfast prepared in her penthouse.

Dressed in a totally transparent dressing robe (because of course she is), Alicia nodded in satisfaction at the three slices of cinnamon French toast, selection of imported fruit jellies, pot of coffee, and copy of the Wall Street Journal.

This is very relatable to me. I, too, start my day by eating the Wall Street Journal.

She asks Jackson if she has any messages. He says she has a few, but nothing important enough to deal with before breakfast. He stands at attention nearby as she eats, and thanks to that transparent robe he does so literally and euphemistically.

Old habits died hard, Jackson never rested easy in the presence of his commanding officer. He always stood at rigid attention in Alicia’s presence. Though he couldn’t help sneak sideways glances at her firm breasts tightly pressed against the thin material of her gown.

I can guess why he ain’t with the CIA anymore.

As the former Green Beret tries to get his privates to stand at ease, Varney sets up her breakfast the way she likes it. Then she eats it the way you’d expect a hedonistic immortal billionaire to: like an asshole.

She feasted slowly, savoring each bite much like a condemned convict eating his last meal. Alicia rarely hurried doing anything. Eating, drinking, sleeping, making love,

using the bathroom, getting money from the ATM, deciding what to order at the drive-through,

she did them all at a controlled, measured pace that defined her existence. She believed in devouring her pleasures mouthful by mouthful, chewing them to a fine pulp, then swallowing. She was never in a rush. She had all the time in the world.

The WSJ doesn’t have anything in it that Varney hadn’t already learned from the better contacts her billions can afford her. This is typical even though reading the paper remains a part of her morning routine. Maybe so her sexy manservant won’t dare to try and start a conversation with her?

The mention of her billions leads to us learning more about the earnings of her company, Varney Enterprises, one of the largest corporation on Earth. Nothing about what services or products the company actually sells, though.

Estimating its actual worth was impossible, but corporate yearly reported income was more than the gross national product of many small countries. And that did not include funds from the company’s more profitable but quite illegal secret enterprises.

Someone’s muscling in on Cyberpunk 2020′s territory.

Eventually Varney puts down the paper, surely confident that Jackson won’t suddenly ask about her feelings, and gazes out the window. She lives in a skyscraper’s penthouse and the weather’s clear enough to see “for miles and miles,” and you’d think she’d admire the sight of New York City at sunrise. Instead, she looks toward New Jersey.

Her sharp gaze traveled past the slums of Tenth Avenue and the Bowery and across the polluted green and brown waters of the Hudson River. Beyond the river were the moldering Hoboken docks and the huge toxic waste dumps that had earned the town the nickname “the cancer capital of America.” At the edge of her vision, Alicia could catch sight of the crumbling coastal palisades that guarded the New Jersey swamps.

The World of Darkness is a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World; a Stark, Desolate Landscape where Nothing is as it Seems. So obviously nothing about New Jersey changed.

The view makes Varney feel like “a medieval princess in her tower surrounded by a world of peasants.” The narration explains America’s social situation in the World of Darkness: The rich are like aristocracy, there’s no true middle class, just rich and poor. Same old, same old. And while Varney has a history that should give her a unique and profound view on this social problem, the only conclusion she’d come to is that being rich is better.

Having experienced both extreme poverty and extreme prosperity many times in her life, Alicia knew without question that incredible affluence was the better of the two.

Wise words, Upton Sinclair.

She reveled in her riches, her lifestyle, and, most of all, in the physical sensations of life itself. There was no way she would give up any of it. For anyone or any cause.

Now with a set-up like that, you could normally predict a character’s arc. This time I have my doubts, as extremely long lived immortal characters tend to be set in their ways, but we’ll see.

(Spoiler: There's only one damn character in this trilogy who grows, and it's not this one.)

Oh, right. If you haven’t figured it out yet, Alicia Varney is actually Anis, Lameth’s former conspirator and lover, or whatever the ancient Mesopotamian term for “friend with benefits” was. It’s not revealed for another two chapters, but it’s obvious, so...

Having reflected on how the hardships she experienced over the millennia have taught her absolutely nothing beyond “fuck you, got mine”, Varney starts feeling philosophical. She asks Jackson if he can imagine living without the sun. Unfortunately the guy’s a bit of a dumbass when it comes to this sort of thing. Or so we’re told.

“Pardon, Miss?” Jackson was poised, bright, and articulate. He did not, however, possess an imagination. He viewed the world in terms of blacks and whites, positives and negatives. A wonderful bodyguard and right-hand man, he was less satisfactory as a conversationalist.

Jesus, all he said was “pardon.” No need to insult the guy’s worldview or conversational skills just yet.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Have you ever given any thought to what it would be like enduring in a world of eternal darkness. (I see what you almost did there, Mr. Weinberg) Without hope of ever seeing sunlight again?”

The big lug thinks she’s talking about being blind.

“Can’t say I have, Miss Varney. During the war, I trained wearing a blindfold, learning how to rely on my other senses if my eyes were injured.

Jackson’s secretly a kung fu movie protagonist.

But that never happened. I’ve been lucky that way. Always had perfect vision.”

Alicia sighed. She wondered why she bothered. With a shake of her head, she tried one last time.

“Big bright light in sky. What if... could kill you? Can only do awake things when big bright light go sleep at dark time? You like?”

But seriously. Varney tells Jackson to imagine he caught a theoretical disease that would kill him if he were exposed to sunlight, and cost him the ability to enjoy “physical pleasures” like eating and drinking. Never again able to see the sun, to eat or drink. Would he go mad? Would he adapt, if he even could.

Jackson finally figures out that his boss is talking about vampires, like the ones she deals with at a place called The Devil’s Playground.

“Became one of those vampire things who spend all their time plotting against each other? Or haunt the streets, drinking the blood from bums who don’t have a place to hide.”

“They are not prime examples of the Kindred,” said Alicia. “But close enough.”

Nah, that’s an accurate description of your average WOD vampire, even the older low-gen ones Varney no doubt thinks of as prime examples (and secretly is).

“It wouldn’t make a difference to me, Miss. I’m a survivor. I enjoy my food and drink,” his eyes widened suggestively, “and my lovemaking.

“Uuuuuuuugh,” groaned Alicia as she once again regrets banging him.

Can’t say I’d be thrilled if I had to live without them. But I ain’t quite ready for the great beyond, if you catch my meaning. If I had to drink some blood to stay around, I’d do it in an instant. Did worse in the war, ma’am. Lot worse once or twice. Survival ain’t pretty, Miss Varney. Still, death is awful final.”

“You are a practical fellow, Mr. Jackson,” said Alicia.

Me, I would’ve asked him to clarify on the war crimes and possible cannibalism he just admitted to, but fine, let’s go with practical.

Varney concludes that she sometimes thinks an eternity of darkness is no better than a short life followed by death, and Jackson can’t really understand because “Mankind is born of the sun” (not me though, I was born after nine o’clock PM) and “Humans are truly heirs of the morning.” Jackson counters by saying he’d heard vampires being called the Children of the Night. Varney says that’s poetic, but very true, proving that neither of these two idiots had watched the damn movie. Dracula was talking about wolves. If anything, werewolves are the Children of the Night. Vampires are more like the Stuffy Old Dudes or Moody Teenagers of the Night, depending on the story.

That was all a fancy way of them agreeing to disagree. The conversation ended, Varney stands up and reminds us that she’s not so much wearing a robe as a big sheet of Saran wrap.

She rose to her feet, grinning as her assistant’s expression froze, his thoughts as transparent as her robe. “Keep hoping, Mr. Jackson,” Alicia purred as she walked to the huge closets that covered one entire wall of her bedroom. “If I don’t find a candidate to satisfy my carnal desires within the next few days, I will be forced to rely on your services. I’m positive you will rise to the occasion.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will have an erection for you when the time comes.”

“...Mr. Jackson. We’ve talked about you explaining my wordplay.”

“...?”

“That you shouldn’t.”

“Of course, Miss Varney,” said Jackson politely. “I’ll try my best.”

“That will be quite satisfactory, I’m sure,” said Alicia.

It’s more clearly playful than the last time Jackson’s fuckin’ skills were brought up, but the fact that he still has to wait a few days before his boss gives up and settles for him still makes me doubt his ability to please.

This reminds me of some Spider-Man history. Do you know why Spidey’s relationship with Black Cat didn’t work back in the day? It’s because while she was in love with the mysterious, wise-cracking and crime fighting Spider-Man, she had absolutely no interest in boring old sad sack Peter Parker. Sure, he was dating this incredibly beautiful lady, but the nature of the relationship meant his self-esteem was at rock bottom.

The situations are different, but the results are similar enough. Jackson occasionally gets to have sex with his gorgeous and seductive boss, but she straight up tells him she’ll only do it if she’s going through an extended sexual drought and can’t find a different boy toy, and she’s too coy to straight up say whether or not she enjoys those rare times with him. It makes me wonder about poor Jackson’s mental health. That and that war time cannibalism he mentioned earlier.

Ah well. Next chapter we learn that Varney pays him enough for her to have no doubts about his loyalty, so he has that going for him at least.

Speaking of paying him enough to deal with her bullshit, as Varney enters one of her closets she orders Jackson to bring up her messages and Sumohn, her pet panther she hasn’t seen in several days. Not only is Alicia Varney a selfish corpo yuppie, she’s one of those people who thinks it’s a good idea to own an exotic animal.

Jackson blanched. His big hands clenched into fists as he scowled at Alicia.

Even her boner-addled henchman is judging her.

“That beast is dangerous, Miss Varney. Black Panthers aren’t made to be household pets. Not even for ladies like you.”

“Nonsense,” said Alicia, her tone of voice brooking no disagreement. “I can assure you that Sumohn is incapable of harming me. I repeat, Mr. Jackson, incapable. We have had this conversation before and it does not please me to repeat it again. The subject is closed.”

Jackson relents, understanding who writes the checks and provides the magic pussy. He says he’ll send word to the kennel, because of course the ignorant billionaire keeps the poor wild animal in a kennel. Following this is what I think they nowadays call a #girlboss moment, but I’m a little out of touch when it comes to cancelled Netflix shows and the social and anti-corporation essays they inspire. It’s the 90′s so let’s call it a Girl Power moment.

“You’re getting better, Jackson,” said Alicia, with a laugh. “But you’re still not perfect. I run my life the way I want. You worry about my business rivals sending assassins after me. I’ll worry about Sumohn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Jackson, his tone of voice indicating he thought his employer was crazy. “You’re the boss.”

“Exactly,” said Alicia. “Now go.”

Alright, Robert Weinberg, I believe you. Alicia Varney is a Strong Female Character and not the result of typing one handed.

The gimp goes down to warn the kennel people while Miss Varney gets dressed. Now, this is a young rich woman getting ready to take her pet out for walkies. It’s an... eccentric choice of pet, but still. You’d expect her to wear something trendy but casual enough to sweat in. But this is vampire fiction, so she’s gotta dress a little more extra than that. She puts on a long black velvet skirt, the Seinfeld puffy shirt a frilly white blouse, and, get this, a black toreador jacket. In this one case, it’s “toreador” as in a bullfighter, not an undead hack artist.

No word on whether or not Varney’s jacket has epaulettes, but I choose to believe they do.

She completes the look with a black beret worn at a “jaunty angle”, so that by the time Jackson gets back she looks like the french foreign exchange student from a 90′s high school movie.

(The only thing we were told about McCann’s wardrobe was that he wears a topcoat.)

Jackson came back with a folder full of documents and word from the kennel that the panther’ll be up in a few minutes. Varney can’t help but snark at Jackson one more time about his earlier common sense argument with her.

“At least they understand the wisdom of not arguing with me,” said Alicia, thumbing through the documents.

Making anonymous calls to the ASPCA, on the other hand...

Halfway through reading her messages, she learns some bad news about Russia. The Shadow Curtain has affected the country’s economic plans as well as secret vampire crap. Now we learn how Miss “I Run My Life the Way I Want”, earlier described as someone who “did not like being denied anything for very long,” reacts to being told she can’t have something.

Not well, as you guessed.

“The Russians refuse to let our people into the country? What the hell is happening there? It doesn’t make sense. Varney Enterprises has been doing business with the Communists since 1919. Did that fool in charge, Andropov, give any reason for the abrupt change in policy? I thought we were bribing the miserable son of a bitch plenty.”

She’s most likely referring to Yuri Andropov, third General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and, as of ‘94, someone who had been dead for ten years. I can’t find anything about him being a secret vampire who faked his death and ruled from behind the scenes, so Alicia Varney hasn’t been paying attention for the past decade.

She also seems to think the USSR’s still a thing when it fell three years ago. I don’t think WOD is one of those fictional universes where the Soviet Union stuck around. That only happens in things like Star Trek, which came out before the Soviet Union fell but takes place in the future and made the wrong prediction about Russia’s. It’d be a waste anyway. There’s plenty of darkness and misery to be found in post-Cold War Russia.

Jackson informs her that rather than dying of renal failure in the 80′s, Andropov has vanished without a trace, along with other people they’d been dealing with in the country, thanks to either Boris Yeltsin or the true power behind Old Drinky. They’d been eliminating the “Old Guard” and replacing them with their own people. Either a reference to the 1993 Russian constitutional crisis or just ”business as usual”. In any case:

“They’ve made it absolutely clear that foreigners are no longer welcome into the country. And that includes us.”

No McDonald’s for World of Darkness Moscow.

“Fuck,” said Alicia harshly. “That move is going to cost us millions. We spent years setting up that network in the Soviet Republics. It can’t crash just become some reformer has taken charge. I refuse to believe it. Russia doesn’t work that way.”

This is the second big change Russia has gone through in less than a century. Nothing stays the same forever. Countries and cultures change. You’d think an immortal would know this.

Jackson says that “things have changed drastically in the past few months,” and their agents, presumably the ones that haven’t become Nictuku food yet, delivered some disturbing rumors about Yeltsin’s secret advisors.

“Word is that to consolidate his position, he’s cut deals with some awfully ruthless characters.”

“Ruthless?” Repeated Alicia. “What’s new about that in Russia? Those bastards are colder than ice. They’d murder their own children and sell the bodies for medical research if it paid enough.”

The urge to include a vodka crack in that rant must have been so strong that if this were the tabletop it would’ve needed a dice roll to resist.

Unfortunately, no one knows the exact truth. Jackson says that despite all the talk, anyone who gets too close to the real truth disappears.

“I’ve studied the reports from the past twelve months.”

This has been going on for a year and you’re only now telling the head of the corporation?

“The closest thing we have to actual facts are several garbled reports of a gigantic old bitch with iron teeth and iron claws meeting late at night with the Premier.”

That sobers Varney up immediately. Or gives her a stroke. You decide.

Alicia froze, her mouth open in stunned surprise. All the color drained from her face, leaving her white as a ghost. Her eyes clouded, as if focusing on something deep within her mind. She stood unmoving, like a statue, for nearly a minute. Then her jaw snapped shut and she ground her teeth together.

“The hag,” she murmured, as if dredging a name out of her subconscious. “The iron hag.”

If Yeltsin had been in league with a powerful witch of legend in real life, I think he’d be remembered more fondly.

Jackson asks her what she means but she snaps out of it and dismisses it as remembering a story from her childhood. Then the elevator arrives and her mood brightens. Sure, Baba fucking Yaga is messing with her bottom line, but right now, KITTY!!!

She turned just as a short, swarthy man (oh for fuck’s sake) entered the parlor. Accompanying him, barely controlled by the steel chain leash around its throat and jaws, was a huge black panther.

The poor thing’s not even wearing a muzzle. They just wrapped a chain around its mouth.

She squees about how much she missed her giant baby as she rushes toward it to run her fingers through its neck fur.

The beast growled, a deep rumbling sound that Alicia insisted was its way of purring.

Oh surprise of surprises, the exotic animal owner knows jack shit about it. The largest species of cat that can purr are cougars. You can argue that some of the noises big cats like jaguars and leopards can make are equivalents to meowing, but I can tell you from experience that cats only meow when they want something, like food, or to bite your throat out and escape because you took it from its natural habitat and regularly stick it in a kennel for days in a row.

(Black panthers are jaguars and leopards with black fur, not a separate species, but we aren’t told which of the two Sumohn is. Cougars are sometimes called panthers, but there aren’t any with black fur, they’re smaller and, despite what the Red Dead Redemption games would tell you, they aren’t as deadly to humans as the actual big cats, and thus aren’t as impressive a thing for a sexy rich immortal to own.)

“Glad to see me too, huh?” said Alicia, scratching the monstrous panther behind the ears.

Yellow eyes stared deep into Alicia’s dark blue ones. The billionairess nodded, as if in reply to an unstated question. It appeared as if the animal and human were communicating by telepathy.

When it comes to animals, vampires are like ghosts and killer robots; animals can sense they aren’t human and freak out. A way around this for vampires here is ghouling the animal. It's heavily implied in Blood War, and will eventually be explained in the third book, that Sumohn is a ghouled animal, which makes it both a superpowered mutant cat and completely loyal to it's master. I also figure that Varney knows the Animalism discipline, which at its most basic allows vampires to communicate with and control animals. The first tier power, Feral Speech, allows one to do exactly what Varney did just now: communicate with animals telepathically if you look them right in the eye. The name of the power wasn’t mentioned, but that same thing happened many chapters ago with Vargoss’ Dominate attempt. There’re also Animalism powers that allow you to summon an animal, sooth its anger, and even possess it; all useful abilities to have if you’ve got a goddamn panther. Animalism isn’t a Brujah power, associated instead with Gangrel, Nosferatu, Ravnos, and, unfortunately for the animal, Tzimisce. But over the millenia old Anis could have learned it from a member of one of those clans. Varney orders Jackson to find out more about what’s going on in Russia by this evening. She tells him to call their people in the State Department and have them check with the CIA, a “subtle” example of her influence. Right now, it’s time for walkies.

“Sumohn’s tired of being kept in a cage. She needs exercise.”

Then don’t keep it in a fucking cage! There’s a reason zoos don’t do that anymore!

They’re headed for Prospect Heights in Brooklyn, to Jackson’s dismay. In this world, New York City has gotten even worse than it was in the 70′s. Here’s what he says about Prospect Heights.

“Prospect Heights isn’t safe. The police have declared it off-limits to civilians. Last week they threw in the towel and stopped patrolling the grounds, even during the daytime. Squad cars won’t enter, even if they spot a murder taking place. Too many gangs and psychos hide in those woods, all armed with heavy artillery and anxious for a chance of blowing away some cops.

“The mayor washed his hands of the whole situation. He called the park a national disgrace. The city council wanted the national guard called out to clean up the place. But the legislature vetoed the funds.”

Jackson shrugged his shoulders. No fan of politics, he was a strict believer in justice delivered from the muzzle of an automatic. ”No way Republicans are going to help a Democratic administration. Meanwhile, the park is a free-fire zone. You’ll be taking your life in your own hands if you go in there.”

What I believe he’s saying here is that The Warriors is canon to Vampire: The Masquerade. Deep down, I think I always knew that.

Varney laughs off the danger. Sumohn will protect her.

As if responding to her mistress’ comments, the panther growled. Despite the big cat’s mouth being muzzled by steel chains, it was a terrifying sound.

Fine, I get it, the panther loves her owner back. But still, GET HER A REAL MUZZLE! ONE THAT KEEPS THE PEOPLE AROUND HER SAFE BUT IS COMFORTABLE FOR THE PANTHER! YOU CAN OBVIOUSLY AFFORD ONE!

How do you even wrap a chain around a panther’s jaws without losing a hand? Christ!

“I hope she can catch slugs with her teeth,” said Jackson.

And take out enough creepy mute baseball bat-wielding psychos before you’re both overwhelmed.

Varney insists she’ll be fine and tells Jackson to focus on Russia. She’ll be back in a few hours. After all, she’s got evening plans at the Devil’s Playground.

“Alert the usual spies. It’s going to be a hot night.”

Which was more true than she could imagine.

#vampire the masquerade #vampire: the masquerade #vtm #vtmb #world of darkness #blood war

0 notes

radiofreejro · 5 years

Text

BYOV - LIBC & Sand City Tap Takeover 1/20/17

BYOV - LIBC & Sand City Tap Takeover 1/20/17 (TEN HOURS)

*SET ONE*

BadBadNotGood - Confessions Pt. II/Lavender/Chompy's Paradise King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard - I'm In Your Mind/I'm Not In Your Mind/Cellophane/ I'm In Your Mind Fuzz/Empty/Hot Water Snake Oil - Seidel In The Salt Flats/Travels Light Moog Machine - Jumping Jack Flash Return To Forever - Sorceress Space Needle - Where the Fucks My Wallet? Notwist - Messier Objects 10-11 Wendy Carlos - William Tell Overture Yes - Heart of the Sunrise XTC - Making Plans For Nigel Primus - Too Many Puppies Parliament - Give Up the Funk Mike Watt - Maggot Brain Frank Zappa/Captain Beefheart - Willie the Pimp DJ Shadow - Organ Donor (extended overhaul) dälek - Spiritual Healing Stevie Wonder - Superstition Yo La Tengo - Nuclear War #2 Shriekback - Nemesis Gang Of Four - I Love A Man In Uniform Pink Floyd - One of These Days Peter Gabriel - Games Without Frontiers DEVO - Beautiful World A Flock of Seagulls - I Ran Lou Reed - Sweet Jane (live) The Doors - The Wasp (Big Beat & Texas Radio) The Wipers - Is This Real? Mission of Burma - This Is Not a Photograph Ned's Atomic Dustbin - Not Sleeping Around Violent Femmes - Kiss Off* The Monroes - What Do All the People Know?* Poison - Talk Dirty To Me The Vapors - Turning Japanese Stetsasonic - A.F.R.I.C.A. Public Image Ltd - The Body INXS - Original Sin Sisters of Mercy - This Corrosion The Housemartins - Happy Hour Talking Heads - This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) Robyn Hitchcock & The Egyptians - Balloon Man ——————————————————————————— *SET TWO*

RJD2 - Ghosthunter Genius/GZA - Duel of the Iron Mic A Tribe Called Quest - We the People/Whateva Will Be The Fugees - Killing Me Softly* Glass Animals - Youth Tom Tom Club - Sunshine and Ecstasy (sunshine + sensi mix) Prince - Little Red Corvette Thunderclap Newman - Something In the Air The Upsetters - Curly Dub Men Without Hats - Safety Dance Weird Al Yankovic - Brady Bunch Madness - One Step Beyond The Time - Jungle Love Luscious Jackson - Strongman Buffalo Springfield - For What It's Worth Beck - The New Pollution The Bølshøi - Happy Boy The Beatles - I Want To Tell You The Breeders - When I Was a Painter The Smithereens - Blood & Roses The Jesus & Mary Chain - Head On Social Distortion - When the Angels Sing Jimmy Eat World - A Praise Chorus The Hold Steady - Chips Ahoy Cursive - Driftwood Kate Bush - The Hounds of Love The Cure - Like Cockatoos The Sugarcubes - Birthday The English Beat - Tears of a Clown Squeeze - Up the Junction Supertramp - The Logical Song Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti - Symphony of the Nymph Dirty Projectors - Stillness Is the Man T'Pau - Heart and Soul San Cisco - Awkward Siousxie & The Banshees - Cities In Dust Chapterhouse - Pearl Brian Jonestown Massacre - Lantern David Bowie - Space Oddity Modest Mouse - The Ocean Breathes Salty Neil Young - Down By the River Built To Spill - Carry the Zero Bongwater - His Old Look Yo La Tengo - Ohm The Boo Radleys - Wish I Was Skinny Al Green - Tired of Being Alone Archie Bell & The Drells - Tighten Up Pt. 1 Rufus Thomas - Can Your Monkey Do the Dog? Dusty Springfield - Son of a Preacher Man Marvin Gaye - I Heard It Through the Grapevine Major Lance - Crying in the Rain The Drifters - There Goes My Baby Sam Cooke - Chain Gang Jimmy Ruffin - What Becomes of the Broken Hearted Isaac Hayes - By the Time I Get to Phoenix Chaka Khan - I Feel For You Prince & The Revolution - Raspberry Beret The Box Tops - I'm Your Puppet Stevie Ray Vaughan - Voodoo Chile Heart - Crazy On You The Clash - Card Cheat The Boomtown Rats - I Don't Like Mondays The Undertones - Get Over You Buzzcocks - Ever Fallen In Love? Social Distortion - Story of My Life Camper Van Beethoven - (I Was Born In A) Laundromat The Jim Carroll Band - People Who Died Frank Turner - I Am Disappeared Bouncing Souls - The Something Special Fred Schneider - Monster Love & Rockets - Ball of Confusion Flaming Lips - Evil Will Prevail John Williams - Star Wars Main Title Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart New Order - Weirdo Mumford & Sons - There Will Be a Time* Courtney Barnett - Lance Jr. The Rave-Ups - She Says (Come Around) Bangles - In Your Mind R.E.M. - Life and How To Live It The Mountain Goats - No Children Dire Straits - Romeo & Juliet Bob Dylan - Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues Elliott Smith - Twilight Emmitt Rhodes - Somebody Made For Me Destroyer - No Cease Fires! (Crimes Against The State Of Our Love, Baby) David Bowie - Starman Yazoo - Nobody's Diary Depeche Mode - Stripped (Highland Mix) Bowery Electric - Beat Tom Waits - The One That Got Away/Diamonds On My Windshield Kurt Vile - Pretty Pimpin' The Replacements - Here Comes A Regular Flaming Lips - Five Stop Mother Superior Rain

#BYOV #radiofreejro #libc #sandcity #tapandbarrelny #vinyldj #vinylnight #craftbeerandvinyl #longisland

1 note · View note

vdbstore-blog · 7 years

Text

New Post has been published on Vintage Designer Handbags Online | Vintage Preowned Chanel Luxury Designer Brands Bags & Accessories

New Post has been published on http://vintagedesignerhandbagsonline.com/charles-jeffrey-and-the-designers-transforming-fashion-for-a-post-gender-world-fashion/

Charles Jeffrey and the designers transforming fashion for a post-gender world | Fashion

The fashion designer Charles Jeffrey is wearing a kilt when I meet him. Granted, he’s Scottish – the 28-year-old grew up in Glasgow – but this is less about nationalism and more about what fans of RuPaul’s Drag Race will know as a “lewk”. The kilt is combined with an oversized leather jacket, chambray shirt, beret, striped football socks and paint-splattered boots held together with bright yellow electrical tape. On his Botticelli-ish face, Jeffrey has added two carefully positioned beauty spots with a kohl pencil. The overall effect is striking. It will provoke some quizzical glances from the ice-skating tourists at Somerset House in London, where Jeffrey’s studio is.

Since launching his label, Loverboy, in 2015, the designer has quickly become a poster boy for catwalk fashion that flouts gender norms, though he probably wouldn’t describe himself as such. Unisex fashion was retail’s answer to the increasingly loud debate over how we identify in terms of sexuality and gender – it was seen in Selfridges’ 2015 Agender unisex pop-up, and is now mainstream, with John Lewis recently making its childrenswear gender neutral. Jeffrey’s work is the flipside of this idea. Instead of discounting gender in fashion, taking away the gender constructs, it plays with them. He uses designs traditionally worn by a man (a suit, say) or a woman (a dress), and makes it a free-for-all, do-what-you-feel, dressing-up box.

Jeffrey’s Loverboy show at London fashion week men’s earlier this month. Composite: Rex Features

He is joined by other designers working in the same area, such as Edward Crutchley, who puts men in crinolines, and the Art School duo who put men on the catwalk in bodycon dresses. They all show their collections at the twice-yearly menswear showcase London fashion week men’s, which took place last weekend.

Jeffrey, though, is the star of this cohort. For his spring/summer 2018 show, the Loverboy label featured a man in a miniskirt and a woman in a striped trouser suit. It closed with a man in a floor-length wedding dress covered in childlike drawings. It didn’t – as it might have a few years ago, when streetwear dominated the men’s shows – prompt scepticism and sighs on the front row. Instead, it was rightly lauded as one of the best shows of the season and scored Jeffrey the emerging talent award at the Fashion awards in London in December. He collected the award from his hero, John Galliano, in a full face of makeup, including painted-on kiss curls.

Jeffrey followed his triumph with another this month. During the latest London fashion week men’s, he showed “Tantrum”, a blistering howl of a show that, in staging at least, recalled Alexander McQueen at his best. It began with a series of young men and women, painted white, running on to the catwalk and screaming at the front row. They then sat down at tables dotted in the venue and heckled models – including Faris Badwan from the Horrors – while swigging wine. Afterwards, Jeffrey told reporters that the collection was partly inspired by Alan Downs’ 2005 book The Velvet Rage, about growing up gay. “It’s about accepting anger and utilising it,” he said. “This is the first time I wanted to explore that particular emotion. It’s always been so joyous and fancy-free but there is a dark side to that, too, so I think it’s good to explore that.”

In 2015, a survey found that half of people aged 18-34 believe that gender exists on a spectrum and shouldn’t be limited to either male or female. Jeffrey is part of that generation refusing to define itself in binary terms. He believes “gender is like an idea” and “there’s this whole perception of how a man can look and a woman can look – and it’s such an interesting place to explore”. Jeffrey’s take on fashion and gender is playful and permissive – gender roles are something to be tried on, depending on how one feels that day. As such, it’s ignoring the signifiers of gender that clothing has provided for centuries. It’s disruptive. A man in a ballgown walking down a catwalk is like a Shakespearean heroine masquerading as a man – it’s carnivalesque, a cheeky “up yours” to the status quo. In fact, Jeffrey, in a truly millennial way, describes any discussion of gender as “a bit of an eye roll”.

Backstage at the London fashion week men’s Edward Crutchley show. Photograph: Tolga Akmen/EPA

He calls his career “a journey of my own identity”, one that began with Central Saint Martins’ infamously forthright tutor Louise Wilson, who died in 2014. “One day, she sat me down and I had all my drawings. I had a dress on, this big felt T-shirt and these weird shoes, and she was basically shouting at me: ‘Your work doesn’t make any sense!’” Wilson – who had also tutored Alexander McQueen and Christopher Kane – advised Jeffrey to examine his own dress sense and to take photographs of his outfits. These images, and this process, still form the basis of Loverboy, three years after he graduated.

This is a movement where the personal is the political – with Jeffrey’s kilt a perfect example. He tells a story of being on the metro in Paris. “I was wearing this Givenchy kilt skirt thing and these two guys started ripping the piss out of me … I ended up saying to them: ‘Vetements national … my heritage … I’m Scottish,’” he says. “They were like, ‘Oh, it’s a kilt. You’re not gay … it’s fine, then.’ I had to pretend not to be gay so I wouldn’t get harassed and I just remember thinking: ‘It’s so crazy,’ because as soon as they realised it was a kilt, their perception of it changed. Because [a kilt] is grounded in masculinity.”

Jeffrey has experimented with his image since his teens – and is well-versed in coping with other people’s reactions. He recalls getting punched at the age of 15 because he had dyed his hair orange. He worked out that he could survive – thrive, even – by finding a scene of like-minded people, first with an emo phase, and later in clubs in London. “What we do now feels like that for other people. One girl I met in Paris was dressed very normally,” he says. “She was shaking and she gave me this letter saying: ‘I have been able to come out because of your brand.’ I see her on Instagram now and she has shaved her head. She’s got that validation and she’s able to express herself.”

Finding a community where your identity is accepted and celebrated is an idea that would chime with Eden Loweth. He designs for his label, Art School, with his partner Tom Barratt who, says Loweth, “identifies as transgender, male to female”. For their show last Sunday, the two 24-year-olds included trans models and men in makeup on the catwalk. The trans model Munroe Bergdorf – who found herself in the limelight last year when she was hired by L’Oréal and then sacked for expressing strong opinions – sat in the front row wearing their clothes. Loweth says the brand is designed to appeal to their friends and those like them. “A lot of our friends wear mostly secondhand clothes because they can’t achieve their identity with clothes that are new and on the market now,” he says. “In the society we live in, it’s becoming increasingly hard for young people to have a voice. A lot of people channel that through what they wear; an expression of themselves.”

Art School on the catwalk at London fashion week men’s. Composite: Rex Features

The place where this self-expression was honed – for Jeffrey anyway – wasn’t just the studios of Central Saint Martins, but the club scene of London. Loverboy shares its name with the night that Jeffrey set up in 2015, first to help finance him through college, but later to explore his ideas in a curated space. It ran for just a year, but provided – along with Jeffrey’s rent money – the fertile soil for his ideas to grow in. He describes clubs as “a safe space to think, feel, be, see and present yourself. It’s the ideal place to pull a look. You can pull a look when you go to a restaurant, but you’re not really enjoying that look as much.” Does he still go out a lot? Jeffrey tries to cover his smirk and then cracks. “Hmm … yes, I do. There’s a whole rave scene happening. My friend has a contact; they’ll send him a message when there’s a rave. It’s amazing.”

The writer and model Niall Underwood, who studied with Jeffrey, is a muse for the designer and regularly wears his designs. He calls Loverboy clothes for “a post-gender world” and says he enjoys wearing them because of how inclusive they are for those in his milieu: “I’m a cisgender man who dresses up in makeup, but some of our friends are more femme and they can wear Charles, too.” Underwood believes the club setting and community of creative people is vital. “We are all the odds and ends of different family backgrounds who ended up united in a London nightclub,” he says. “That’s not a new concept, but that doesn’t mean it’s invalid.”

As Underwood says, the club as a permissive place to explore self-expression and play with gender norms isn’t a new idea (nor is men wearing clothes designed for women – Jean Paul Gaultier, Vivienne Westwood and JW Anderson have all played with this idea). Alistair O’Neill, reader in fashion history at Central Saint Martins, sees Jeffrey and his cohort in the tradition established in London since the late 60s. He namechecks David Hockney’s Notting Hill set, the scene around Roxy Music in the 70s and the clubs Blitz, Taboo and Kinky Gerlinky in the 80s – where Galliano, Westwood and Rachel Auburn, along with performance artist Leigh Bowery, were clientele. “Clubs can become the breeding ground for creativity,” says O’Neill. “Barry Miles called the dancefloor the R&D department of Central Saint Martins. These designs weren’t being sketched, they were being worn to a nightclub.”

Jeffrey’s Loverboy show on the catwalk for London fashion week men’s SS18. Photograph: Stuart C Wilson/Getty Images

O’Neill is careful about connecting what Jeffrey and friends are doing to “LGBTQ visibility and new debates about gender identity”. Instead, he emphasises the playfulness of this group of designers – one that marks them out from the genderless trend that came before it. “This is quite different,” he says. “This is not about daywear, it’s about a new kind of evening wear. These are clothes that stand out.” He also credits social media with the normalising of outfits that used to be reserved for after dark. “It’s this giant mirror,” he says. “I think it has put a different spin on self-fashioning and self-appearance in relation to that kind of community of people who are interested in projecting an idea of themselves. It’s hugely powerful, though I don’t think it’s all positive.”

Jeffrey is part of a generation where non-heterosexual and cisgender identities have, as O’Neill says, been “normalised as part of their peer group and wider society”. If the folks attending Taboo had a very different life in the daytime – “they were doing it all at nights and waking up in squats”, says O’Neill – Jeffrey’s generation is increasingly using clothes as self-expression 24/7. The designer describes his class at Central Saint Martins as a place where “it was the norm for people to be wearing dresses, girls in suits. You would have your Supreme sportswear person next to someone who pins ties to a towel and wears that.” The success of RuPaul’s Drag Race – now on its ninth series – has, he says, helped the mainstream become acclimatised to this different way of dressing. “That drag look isn’t only something you see in a dark basement of a club, you see it’s something that can be digested.”

Even if his clothes are not designed to be a political statement, Jeffrey does feel strongly about providing a space where trans identity can be celebrated: “there is a lot of stigma still attached to trans people and it’s important to communicate with the whole spectrum of what gender is, people who want to be associated with femininity and masculinity”. Loweth also feels strongly about this issue, with the label’s recent show featuring several trans models. “Trans identity across the world is being attacked, especially with people such as Trump in power now,” he says. “We want to create joyous self-expressions to combat that.” Resistance through joy is an idea that feels very 2018.

There is a school of thought that more and more people will start to dress in a way that subverts the long-established structures of who is meant to wear what – whether in a big way, as with Jeffrey’s gang, or with smaller tweaks, such as young men wearing glitter at festivals. Does that mean there is a gap in the market? Selfridges, which has worked with Jeffrey and Art School, thinks so. Jack Cassidy, the company’s menswear buying manager, says the designer, whose show it hosted last weekend, “is leading the way for a less gender-specific way of dressing and categorisation”. In-store, following on from 2015’s Agender genderless fashion project, Cassidy adds that up to half of the designer men’s avant-garde department (where the likes of Jeffrey would sit) is now sold to women. Cassidy believes this across-gender shopping will continue: “Generally, the new generation of fashion-savvy consumer would shop in stores and departments that historically were targeted to the opposite gender.”

Perhaps what makes Jeffrey and this cohort of designers feel important is that they are experimenting with self-expression as much as selling clothes. It means what they are doing rings true – and for a zeitgeist where authenticity is highly prized, that’s the sweet spot. “I’m happy walking down the street with makeup. It might lift today, it might make it that much more interesting,” says Jeffrey. “Rather than: ‘I’m going for a night out,’ it’s like: ‘I’m going to go and get my eggs.’ Let’s see how that feels.”

Source link

#Fashion

0 notes

newyorktheater · 7 years

Text

My annual New Year’s Eve last-minute guide features the Broadway show schedule for New Year’s week, and other theater, as well as parties, concerts,intimate dinners, cruises, and quiet or healthy alternatives that are still available to do on New Year’s Eve 2018 (when 2017 turns into 2018) in New York City. Some events are free, some are outdoors — and then there are TV listings.

Only eight percent of Americans reportedly plan to go out on New Year’s Eve. For those New Yorkers (and New York visitors) who haven’t made those plans yet, here are some ideas:

TIMES SQUARE

The New Year’s Eve tradition in Times Square began in 1904 with a rooftop celebration to greet the New Year. Three years later, they started lowering a ball.

From the organizers comes this overview of New Year’s Eve in Times Square, so you know what is in store for you if you decide to stand at the Crossroads of the World for New Year’s Eve

Keep in mind: Revelers start arriving late in the afternoon on New Year’s Eve. By approximately 3:00 PM., the Bowtie of Times Square (42nd to 47th Sts. between Broadway & 7th Ave.) is fully closed to traffic. The crowd, which in the past has reached in the millions, could go as far uptown as Central Park, 17 blocks away.

Another way of saying this: If you want to be within naked-eyesight of the Times Square ball, arrive in the afternoon, and be prepared to stand immobile until the ball drops at midnight. Huddle with friends and loved ones for warmth – or make new friends.

Times Square offers an outdoor evening of entertainment.

Midnight

Confetti, “2018” sign in lights, lots of hugging and wishing for a Happy New Year

I’ve spent three New Year’s Eves in Times Square, which is probably two more than necessary, but found each memorable. Do remember that the highlights will be televised. See What’s on TV, below.)

You can also watch the festivities online.

DINING OUT ON NEW YEAR’S EVE

Open Table lists some 700 restaurants with “New Year’s Eve offers” Most of them offer a choice of seatings – either earlier in the evening, so that you can make it in time elsewhere for the stroke of midnight, or party-hat-equipped seatings that lead up to midnight, where you can often turn on a TV so that you can watch the ball drop in Times Square. Open Table provides all sorts of filters — you can look for a table for 2 at a “charming” French restaurant at 7 pm in your specific neighborhood.

Have a favorite neighborhood eatery that’s not listed on Open Table? Go to the place NOW, and ask them whether they will take reservations.

THEATER ON NEW YEAR’S WEEK

Ito Aghayere and Matthew Saldivar

Only two of the shows currently on Broadway will be offering performances on New Year’s Eve, both matinees– Junk (which is at Lincoln Center) and Once on This Island (at Circle in the Square.) This is a huge decrease from the 15 matinees last year. (New Year’s Eve fell on a Saturday then; this year it’s a Sunday.) Then eight of the shows will offer performances on New Year’s Day, all of them evening performances.

Keep in mind several of these shows are closing soon, so this may be your last chance to see them.

Closing January 7, 2018: Junk

Closing January 14, 2018 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Miss Saigon

Closing January 21 Meteor Shower

(If tickets are not available through the box office, try buying tickets here)

Of course, New York theater is far more than just Broadway, and some Off-Broadway and Off-Off Broadway shows are not just happening, but getting into the whole excess thing that means New Year’s Eve to so many in New York. Prime example is Sleep No More, which for New Year’s Eve adds something called the McKittrick King Masquerade, “live performances and an open bar all night long.’

Similarly XIV Company offers its “Nutcracker Rouge,” (a “baroque, burlesque” not-for-children take on Nutcracker Suite) at a new theater in Bushwick, Brooklyn, followed by a party with the cast.

FAMILY SHOWS NOT ON BROADWAY

Radio City Rockettes Christmas Spectacular (two performances on New Year’s Eve, in the morning and the afternoon.)

That Physics Show (showings at noon and 3 p.m.)

The Enlightenment of Mr. Mole (2 p.m.)

Sistas The Musical (4:30 p.m. — at St. Luke’s Theater, 46th west of Eighth, so perilously close to Times Square)

OFF BEAT THEATER

with performances on New Year’s Eve (and, through Goldstar, at a discount)

Who’s Holiday

Bright Colors and Bold Patterns

Drunk Shakespeare

(Back to top)

NEW YEAR’S EVE PARTIES

AT NIGHTCLUBS & WEIRD PLACES (including home)

There’s a New York for almost any taste, so why would it be surprising that Eventbrite lists some 1,000 New Year’s Eve parties? Some 90 of those are listed as free (that’s my taste.) Others are obscenely expensive.

You can dance at parties set up in Times Square venues, such as the Marriot Marquis and the AMC 42nd Street movie theater, “six floors of fun” for as little as $39 (that’s after 12:30 a.m. admission) and as much as $2,100. Most promote a great view of the ball dropping (which — do you mind my pointing out? — is an insane pitch, but apparently an effective one. Maybe that’s a good summary of 2017)

Then there are the super-hip (and less expensive) parties in Brooklyn.

BangOn!NYC no longer holds their bash at a secret location. They now have a new home in East Williamsburg, which they’ve turned into an intergalactic extravaganza with psychedelic art installations and roaming fire breathers below a spinning planetarium.

Purple Rain Dance Party. For the fourth year in a row, Syndicated, a movie theater, bar and restaurant in Bushwick, Brooklyn will project the 1984 movie” Purple Rain” on the wall while dj/vjs The Hogstad Brothers spin Prince classics like “Raspberry Beret” and “Cream.” Purple Rain or Prince-inspired costumes/attire “strongly encouraged.”

Many suggest throwing your own New Year’s Eve party, and offer vaguely insulting step-by-step tips on how to do so. The most memorable advice for throwing a party came from Joan Crawford, who was quite a partier in her day (see above). Her advice (see below) can be summed up as:

Have a mix of people as your guests, but nobody with dirty feet.

Secretly drug them.

(P.S., don’t do this.)

(Back to top)

CONCERTS

St. John the Divine Concert for Peace.

An annual event since 1984, when it was founded by Leonard Bernstein. This year’s concert will feature excerpts from Bernstein’s Mass in celebration of the maestro’s centennial year. Artists in residence Judy Collin and theater composer will make their own musical offerings in a program that concludes with Joseph Haydn’s Te Deum, to welcome the new year with affirmation and joy. This concert is free, first come first serve, although ticketed seating is also available starting at $40.

The New York Philharmonic at Lincoln Center: Bernstein on Broadway. Annaleigh Ashford, Christopher Jackson Laura Osnes, and Next and Aaron Tveit will perform from West Side Story, Wonderful Town, and On The Town. Bramwell Tovey conducts.

The bad news about this concert is that it’s sold out. The good news is that it’s being broadcast live on PBS starting at 9 p.m.

Phish at Madison Square Garden for the 11th year in a row!

Cardi B at Knockdown Center The Bronx rapper breaks loose in Queens. The singer of the hit “Bodak Yellow,” entertains along with DJs Venus X, DJ BEBE, DJ Shelby Sells and DJ Pro Style at the cool arts center housed glass-manufacturing plant built in 1903 in Maspeth.

Television at Bowery Ballroom

CABARET

With the repeal this year of the hated 91-year-old Cabaret Law, which banned dancing at all but a handful of licensed venues (fewer than 100), you could argue that life is a cabaret (or at least could be) at all 25,000 eating and drinking establishments in New York City. But “cabaret” has come to define specific genres of intimate entertainment at just a few, relatively small venues, such as those below.

Tip: Most cabarets offer two seatings on New Year’s Eve. The one earlier in the evening is far less expensive. Many of these performers return to these venues every New Year’s — a wonderful tradition that makes last-minute tickets chancy, but worth trying.

Sandra Bernhard: Sandemonium at Joe’s Pub

Natalie Douglas at the Duplex — her 18th New Year’s there

Cassie Levy at Feinstein’s/54 Below

Steve Tyrell at Cafe Carlyle

Bazazz! at Don’t Tell Mama “A sequined variety starring Rick Skye as Liza Minelli”

The Birdland Big Band at Birdland Jazz Club

FIREWORKS

Annual Prospect Park Fireworks – free. at Grand Army Plaza

Coney Island New Year’s Eve Celebration -4th annual celebration, with free fireworks on the boardwalk

Central Park Fireworks (See also midnight run below)

HARBOR CRUISES

Big selling point of all these cruises — a close-up of the New Years Eve fireworks over the water. Most include a buffet, open bar, and dancing with a dj. Drawbacks: These cost hundreds of dollars, and many are already sold out. (But there are cruises during the day on New Year’s Eve”

Circle Line New Year’s Eve Cruises

Zephyr New Year’s Eve Family Cruises

HEALTHY ALTERNATIVES

A MEDITATIVE ALTERNATIVE

The Kadampa Meditation Center in Chelsea, $30 for non-members, provides a way for you to “ring in the New Year “with compassion and beneficial intentions!” — hors d’oeuvres, meditation, and no alcohol. (Pre-registration is required.)

WALKING AND RUNNING AND BIKING

New York Road Runners’ Midnight Run in Central Park

Shorewalkers Happy New Years Day Hike — Hiking the shores and parks of upper Manhattan starting at noon on New Year’s Day, which gives you a good excuse to go to bed early.

20th annual Bike Ride and Outdoor After Party, from Time’s Up environmental action organization, which meets in Washington Square Park at 10 p.m. and bicycles en mass to the Belvedere Castle in Central Park.

WHAT’S ON TV

ABC: Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve with hosts Ryan Seacrest will again feature Mariah Carey, despite her disastrous performance last year. For the 46th year, ABC invites viewers to a “Rockin’ Eve,” although the show has been without longtime host and producer Clark since his death in 2012. Other performances scheduled by Camila Cabello, Nick Jonas, and Sugarland; and Britney Spears from Las Vegas.

CNN: After 10 year, New Year’s Eve Live will no longer pair Anderson Cooper with Kathy Griffin, after her joke holding the severed head of what looked like President Trump earlier his year. Her replacement is Andy Cohen. (I can’t help quoting what Anderson Cooper said in 2013: “I don’t know anybody who has a fun time at a party at New Year’s Eve. That’s why I work on New Year’s Eve.”)

Fox: Fox’s New Year’s Eve with Steve Harvey: Live from Times Square Celine Dion, Backstreet Boys, Macklemore featuring Skylar Gray, Flo Rida and Neil Diamond.

PBS: Live from Lincoln Center New York Philharmonic concert, Bernstein on Broadway (!)

TV Marathons

AMC: “Breaking Bad” marathon all New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day.

E!: “Parks and Recreation”

FXX: “The Simpsons.” The marathon starts with The Simpsons Movie at 6pm ET/PT and is followed by a ten hours of the best episodes.

IFC: “The Three Stooges”

SYFY: “Twilight Zone”

WPIX: “The Honeymooners”

And, in a nod to a new era, here’s “100 Best Movies on Netflix”

(Back to top)

New Year’s Eve in New York City 2018 Last Minute Plans My annual New Year's Eve last-minute guide features the Broadway show schedule for New Year’s week, and other theater, as well as…

0 notes