When considering all the assorted tragedies that have set up shop in the Meatpacking District, it's nearly impossible to assemble them in a rank and file from bad to abhorrent. They're all bad, they're all filled with overly slick playas and faux-empowered hobags. So rather than enumerate all the things worth hating, we're instead focusing on what comes to mind as the four most offensive, neighborhood-iconic, and ridiculous venues: One, Level V, PM, and G-Spa — the four horsemen's stables, if you will.
ONE is a lounge/restaurant located in the heart of the meatpacking district. One has an earthy, sexy feel with warm natural candlelight, with emphasis on shadows and light.
Gosh, that sure does sound nice. In reality, it comes off like an old man's sex fantasy. If Old Spice had a "look," this would be it: browns, bricks, and wall sconces. As for the crowd: all B&T, all the time. If the 500 cheese-flecked promoters who overtake the place every night were smart, they'd start a Hoboken shuttle service.
Descend the stairs into an intimate subterranean space with low ceilings, flickering candles, a glowing bar that tells you this isn't your ordinary lounge.
Oooh, intimate. You know what that means? Big hulking neck-beasts and twig-women with clipboards standing at the top of a stairwell, doing their best to make sure you're greasy enough to get in. If you make it down those stairs, have fun trying to move freely - it's hard to walk more than three steps without getting hit by a speeding i-banker. And if you're over 6'2", you just might smack your skull on an overly decorative arch.
50 Gansevoort Street
From the the website, which pumps music like a goddamn Pines Party and flashes words like "glamour" and "intimate" over images of brown-skinned children (it's bad, go check it out):
Step off the gritty streets of New York's Meatpacking District and into a tropical paradise. The palm trees, the luxurious banquettes, the free flowing cocktails and the seductive percussion are an escape from the ordinary.
Um, are you fucking kidding? Gritty streets? Forget it. After listening to the website for five minutes, we're not even indulging this "intimate" faux-Caribbean hellhole. Decorated like a poor man's Bungalow, that's all you need to know. Move on, don't dignify its existence.
A private entrance inside the Hotel Gansevoort leads late-night revelers into New York City's sexiest, most innovative lounge. Located on the lower level, Gansevoort Spa and Lounge's intimate and seductive setting is open to New York City's elite.
With all the various strains of absurdities in the MPD, G-Spa wins our vote as Most Awful Concept Ever. By day, G-Spa is a small, steamy beauty spa located in the basement of the Hotel Gansevoort. Steam rooms, hydrotherapy pools, cocktail bar, etc. But once night falls, the plexiglass covers the pools, the bathrobes are put away, and the place is magically "transformed" into an ultra-exclusive nightspot. Unless they know who you are - like Sarah Polonsky - you're not getting in. But that's a good thing, because there really isn't any "transformation" at night. You'd just be drinking $15 cocktails in a sauna, crammed into an incredibly tiny space, and trying not to pass out from the smell of chlorine. Remember sitting on the deck of the indoor pool at your childhood YMCA, waiting for your turn to do laps? G-Spa feels a lot like that.