Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Last night Thrillist threw a party in conjunction with a certain alcoholic energy drink at the Hotel QT. Though we are usually loathe to frequent the hotel, most famous for having a pool in the lobby that is often coated with a thin skin of hair grease on the top, the prospect of free Sparks proved irresistible. Gawker visiting photographer Kate was there for the photographic documentation. After Hours Editor Josh was there for the Cesare Lombrosian classifications.
Gallery:

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

Team Party Splash: Thrillist @ Hotel QT

As the Midtown sun hushed to a blurry light pollution, some of blogging's biggest celebrities, cough, lounged poolside. Rachel Sklar and her entire division of Eat the Press fembots stood poolside, fully clothed, wishing they were in the pool, scantily-clad and frolicking. Perched half in the water and half out, those gamines to which Huffpo's people aspired —their breasts glimmering under the lights and stares of a hundred chubby dudes—posed and tossed large beach balls. The sheen of chlorine on their faces, no doubt undoing the good work of their expensive Clarins moisturizer, didn't mask the underlying truth that the amount of clothing worn at this particular party is inversely proportional to the level of self-esteem of those wearing and not wearing it. Of course there are some outliers—the obese, those with eczema, that rare bird in a one piece—but in general a good rule of thumb.

The men, meanwhile, at least those swimming, could be divided in terms of their levels of definition. This is important to the Thrillist ethos. Here too an inversely proportional relationship could be found. Those with the most developed pecs and triceps who frolicked in the pool were clearly the ones with whom any civilized person would have the least to do with. As the muscular definition became more and more vague, likeability increased.

As the night wore on, empty Sparks cans ringed the poolside, their sickening contents drained into the guts of now drunk and hyper revelers. Sklar had left long ago to work on her book, which is apparently about Jews, and the pool was mostly empty, save a few slowly drowning beach balls.

Thrillist Pool Party [Flickr]