Friend of a Friend is a column for Tawk of New Yawk – After Dark, featuring interesting people we know (and people they know). FOAF is where artists, industry types, and under-the-radar personalities share what they’re working on, what they’ve lived through, and what’s actually going on behind the scenes.

Canyon Coffee, the Los Angeles favorite now nestled into Brooklyn Heights, was built by Casey Wojtalewicz and his partner Ally around the idea of bringing “a little sigh of relief” into people’s days. I caught up with Casey to talk about building that feeling, New York versus LA coffee culture, their Japanese brown sugar latte, and why my love of fun flavored coffee is, in fact, totally fine and normal.

STEPHANIE: How, if at all, did being in New York shape the way you think about the Canyon experience compared to Los Angeles?

CASEY: Interestingly, our café model works really well for New York. It’s almost built for it. We emphasize quality and warmth but also speed, and design our spaces and operation to accomplish both in a way that also doesn’t overtax our team — meaning friendlier service.

Having existed as a company for 10 years, we have some established values (including, amongst others, warmth, quality and coffee as connection) that made their way into our first café we opened in Los Angeles in 2022. While much of our brand is about slowing down and reframing the home pour over as an opportunity for mindfulness, our approach to cafés was to consider both the person on their way to work and the friends looking for a nice spot to sit and meet up (and the writer looking for a place to do their thing). When we told friends we were opening in New York, we got some responses like “Oh, well, y’know — New Yorkers, they just want to get in and get out.” We felt like “Yeah, that’s true… but we know New Yorkers who also enjoy a nice space to sit and enjoy their coffee or food in.”

I’d say the most notable differences come down to the music and the seasonal produce. We dropped the orange juice machine in place of local apple cider. And we emphasize more New York artists in our record collection.

STEPHANIE: To me, your brand emphasizes ritual and daily rhythm. What have you noticed about how people move through your Brooklyn space so far?

CASEY: We feel lucky to already have a growing number of regulars! Whereas our LA regulars are often at the café early and stay while, I’ve noticed our Brooklyn regulars have specific windows of time during the day they visit. It’s a shorter time window. To me, this speaks to the ability of New Yorkers to include a lot more in their day due to the walkability and ease of moving around — vs. Angelenos, who — unless they’re lucky and live in a walkable neighborhood — have to drive around, which can be a time suck. Other than that, it feels largely the same. Folks come in to meet up with friends, read a book, do some work.

STEPHANIE: Be honest, who did you imagine would walk through the doors first in Brooklyn: homesick LA transplants, or actual New Yorkers? And has that matched reality so far?

CASEY: Haha… we didn’t visualize that far. To be honest, we were really surprised just how many LA transplants there are in this neighborhood! Even cooler has been meeting folks in Prospect Heights who have been ordering our coffee online for years — many of whom I emailed with directly, back when I did all the shipping. By and large, the majority of people are New Yorkers. But the presence of pre-existing Canyon customers, fans and LA transplants adds a flavor of excitement to the general exuberance of springtime after a long, cold winter.

STEPHANIE: What do you hope someone’s experience feels like the first time they walk in, especially if they’ve never interacted with Canyon before?

CASEY: We hope they let out a little sigh of relief, to step into a space that feels calm, warm and inviting. We hope they don’t wait in line too long (we do things to move it quick!), that they’re greeted by our team with warmth. That they’ve been able to see the menu in the lead-up to ordering so they don’t feel rushed to make a decision. That if they’re curious about something our team shares information in a helpful way. After they order, we hope they take a seat along the wall or at the counter and start to notice things. The record playing, the flowers, the way our team works together. And of course hope they get their toast and coffee (or tea) quickly and that it’s not only great the first time, but every time they visit thereafter.

STEPHANIE: Why Brooklyn, specifically? What felt aligned about opening here versus somewhere else in New York?

CASEY: Brooklyn has been home away from home for us. Ally’s brother and sister have lived here for our entire adult lives, and while she grew up nearby in Long Island, any trip to New York would always include time spent here.

On top of that, we want to contribute to neighborhoods; to be a neighborhood shop. It’s a different vibe compared to a commercial district, with regard to building relationships, having regulars, and quality of interactions. We’ve seen firsthand how our space in LA truly contributes to building community — linking neighbors together, people making new friends, partners, future spouses — and it’s a motivator for us when we think about opening more cafés. We’ve known Prospect Heights to be a tight-knit community, we also love its proximity to the park. When we came across the corner spot, it was a similar feeling to when our spot in LA became available — here was a space in a location we felt ought to serve the community as a place to come together, bump into a friend, and enjoy.

STEPHANIE: New York has no shortage of ‘beautiful coffee shops.’ What makes Canyon something people come back to, not just photograph once?

100% agree! LA is no different. I think it comes down to our intention behind the design (our goals of creating a calm, warm, inviting space), but perhaps more importantly, our operation and our quality. It helps that we’ve been around 10 years and have become a familiar brand to New Yorkers; so we already came in with some trust in the quality of our coffee. But to us, if you visit a beautiful shop but have poor service, it takes forever, the quality’s off, and the atmosphere isn’t welcoming, you’re less likely to return. It’s a lot of little things, but they all have to click to create that kind of experience that keeps folks coming back.

STEPHANIE: Let’s assume there’s a coffee drinker who really drinks coffee for the fun flavors. It’s definitely not me. I’m very grown up and I drink proper coffee. (It’s me.) What should that person order?

CASEY: If you mean for fun flavors in black coffee, one caveat is that we don’t have a pour over menu! Instead, we focus on having one drip coffee and one iced flash brew coffee on tap we seek to dial in perfectly every day. In lieu of that experience of giving people options of different origins and processing methods on a daily basis, we have more of a “trust us” approach where we bank on the flavors and quality being at a level that normal to serious coffee drinkers will enjoy.

If you mean for fun flavors added to coffee, our Japanese brown sugar latte has become surprisingly popular in NY! We use it making a special brown sugar from Hateruma Island in Japan. For the summertime, I also personally love a refreshing espresso & tonic in the afternoon. We garnish with orange, which gives it a nice spritz-like quality.

Aside from our housemade syrups, we aren’t really known for an extensive coffee-cocktail menu nor do we follow social media coffee trends. We tend to opt more for a classic espresso menu that lets the coffee shine. We do love our NY tea providers, Masha and Kettl. We feature Kettl’s matcha in our draft matcha pistachio drink.

STEPHANIE: For everyone else who has self respect (not me) and drinks coffee properly (not me), what should they order?

CASEY: Haha hey — to each their own! All are welcome. But thanks for asking.

Personally, I just love having my cup (or two or three) of black drip every day. Ally has become a cortado girl in her return-to-New York era. Aficionados should also try our flash brew. We typically keep a single origin Ethiopian washed coffee on year-round. In this window of late spring, we’re currently awaiting on our fresh arrival from Ethiopia so we have a single origin Peruvian coffee on flash.

For coffee lovers who take coffee with their milk, I always recommend our draft oat latte. We batch prepare these in the calm back of house to help ensure consistency. If and when folks enjoy it, it’s a great go-to especially on a day when our team is busy and you want to get in and out quick!

The Thursday Rager is a column written by Jen Glass for After Dark by Tawk of New Yawk. Jen is a nightlife, good times, Gen Z columnist. Bi-weekly, she’ll tell you about a cool, off the radar event she’s attended, share a perspective, or a really niche story, and will offer a bar recommendation for your weekend shenanigans.

Deep and personal author reveal, I guess: I am on Accutane. I have suffered from acne pretty much all my life, so this year, at my big age, I finally decided to take the plunge. For those who don’t know, Accutane is a very strong drug. It requires constant blood tests and checkups, and it ravages your liver. Doctors recommend you abstain from drinking during the course of your treatment or risk permanent liver damage.

My high school dermatologist actually recommended I start Accutane right before my freshman year of college. My eighteen-year-old self shuddered at the prospect of responsibility and self-control becoming the themes of my freshman year, so instead, I opted for acne and debauchery. Nine years later, I found myself with a fully developed brain and a few sober months already behind me after needing a break from drinking. It felt like a natural time to take the plunge. No more alcohol: doctor’s orders.

It’s not just me and my Accutane-addled body, though. Gen Z is drinking way less than previous generations. And yeah, that’s good in some aspects. Gen Z probably sleeps better, and there are certainly some CBD gummy companies jumping for joy. But Gen Z is also socializing less. Well, we all are, but Gen Z in particular, according to the U.S. Surgeon General.

Your local friend Jen would argue that drinking and socializing do not need to, and should not, be connected. No, really. You just need to remember a few things:

Be in it for the love of the game.

Guys, I genuinely love going out and doing stuff. I love dancing, and I love karaoke, and I love staying out late. I love meeting new people and rehashing the same drama with old friends. I love silly photobooth pictures and playing pool. I LOVE dancing. Did I mention I love dancing? And where can I find all of these things? OUT. Out on the town.

I hear you, dear introverted Gen Z reader. “Oh, but Jen, I don’t actually like those things. I like sitting at home and scrolling TikTok. I like doing my skincare and being in bed by 9:30.” Okay, that’s fine for you! And believe me, sometimes binge-watching Survivor with a bowl of pasta is my ideal weekend night, too. To me, though, being social is a muscle. You build it up over time. You find the things you like and the things you don’t. You find the cadence of going out that feels good to you. Maybe you don’t like dancing like I do, which I don’t understand, but that’s your prerogative. Maybe you love dishing gossip at a swanky cocktail bar. Maybe you only want to go to twenty-person punk shows, or maybe you want to browse the Partiful events tab. Just try going out for a bit in the most amazing city on the planet. Make a friend! It won’t kill you!

Explore your mocktail options.

Celsius has been a godsend to me during this time. I did try Monster, but yeesh. Yuck. Not for me, I fear. Celsius is genuinely delicious and looks passably like a drink. I’m a white woman in my twenties, so I love Diet Coke and often just order those. Bartenders will sometimes just hand me one instead of making me pay two bucks. Homies! Sobriety gaining steam means lots of bars now have fun mocktails on their menus, and sometimes bartenders will even offer to whip one up for me improv-style. Just make sure to always tip! And hey…there are other things that are legal in New York if that’s more your speed.

Find supportive (and normal) friends.

It has come to my attention that some friend groups care whether everyone in the group is drinking. It has come to my attention that some friend groups do not want to hang out at a dive bar, the club, or the park if substances aren’t involved. Well, thankfully, those people are not my friend group. I’m happy to be silly with them and nurse them back to health if they get too drunk and need it. And in return, they never give me any crap about being sober on our nights out. Plus, hanging out with them is my drug, to be honest. I’d recommend finding extremely excellent friends. Lucky to say I have, and it makes everything easier.

Whether you’re drunk or sober, go forth, party, and prosper. It’s for the good of humanity.

BAR TO TRY THIS WEEKEND: Bushwick Country Club

Is the weather good? Who’s to say, really? It feels like it may finally be good once and for all. Maybe? I’m hedging my bets, and so I’m recommending Bushwick Country Club. I kind of stole this rec from my girlfriend, who took me there with her friends and regaled me with stories about how this place invented the pickleback shot. Either way, the backyard of this place ruled. Inside, there are deep booths, friendly bartenders, who did aggressively card us…I’m 27, you guys, and a photobooth, which apparently is the one-way ticket to my heart. Worth a trip if you’re in the area.

Sorry that I didn’t send anything last Sunday. I was sick with a crippling existential dread and also some fatigue laden virus.

I finally caught up and watched The Immortal Man. In case you’re unaware, it’s the movie that ends the Peaky Blinders series. (Well, a new version taking place in the 50’s is coming out, but more on that later.)

It was awful. Just. Fucking. Awful.

To be clear, I’m a big fan of organized crime films and television. This has been one of the best shows of that genre ever created. Tommy Shelby is the leader of a small time crime family. He goes off to fight in WWI, comes home, and the family of underdogs do a bunch of cool shit. But, then. Well, every season follows the same format. New villain. New love interest. Tommy Shelby always wins. But, it’s still fun to watch. I wouldn’t say there’s a bunch of plot armor. But that means in the final movie, we’re left with Tommy Shelby and a cast of people we couldn’t give less of a shit about because we don’t know them.

Cinematography - stunning.

Acting - fantastic.

Writing and plot - Did they even try? Did they type the script with their feet?

Question for Stephen Knight, “Why would you do that?”

Nothing at all to do with New York. BUT, I did watch it in my New York apartment. I am sad that it’s all over. Back to The Gilded Age series for this gal.

Wishing you a great week,

Stephanie

Founder + Editor, Tawk of New Yawk

Art & Culture

Tony Torn Kills It.

But when does he not kill it? Recently, he starred in a rare revival of the absurdist play Spider Rabbit. If you’re not sure what absurdist theory is, it’s basically this: Life has no meaning or purpose. Humans are constantly looking for meaning in life in great and small ways. That conflict is absurdism. Spider Rabbit is an absurdist, anti-war play. It’s creepy and unsettling, but hard to look away from.

At first, Spider Rabbit feels like the host of a children’s show. He introduces himself, shows objects, repeats things, and keeps the rhythm light. It is silly until it is not. Then everything starts to turn. The objects get darker. The imagery gets physical. Blood, body parts, war, appetite, all handled with the same strange cheerfulness. It stops reading like nonsense and starts reading like a mind trying to survive something it cannot actually process.

To read more about the play and Alina’s experience, click here.

Screen, Page, Stage

Nicole Travolta is Doing Meh.

We were invited to see Nicole Travolta’s solo show “Nicole Travolta is Doin’ Alright.” Nicole is John Travolta’s niece. The show is about her accumulating shopping debt. Our theater contributor sent to review the show wasn’t impressed.

While Travolta may have gotten by without riding Uncle Johnny’s coattails (allegedly), it seems she surely gets to coast on her looks. That’s the only justification I can find for how this piece has run for so long, seen so many stages, and is still this bad. Her stagecraft was awful: she kept forgetting lines, the pacing and flow were all over the place, and while we all love a redemption arc, the show, her overall demeanor, and the few interactions with audience members all felt forced.

Someone reached out on Reddit to tell me that they enjoyed the play. It may have been an off night. Probably not. To read more of that review, click here.

Art & Culture

Slaying Surrealism

We try to make sure that Alina Gatrell, our art & culture writer, is going to as many events as possible. A few weeks back, she attended The Surrealist Ball. It was the inaugural event for Midnight Flâneur, created by Simone McAlonen. I loved reading about this experience and seeing the photos. We’re super excited to see what Simone does next. It’ll be something this summer, so stay tuned!

More concept than costume, almost everyone committed. Some came as private jokes no one else was in on. Others pulled from older horror imagery, like Vagina Dentata and Saint Bartholomew. Some referenced Surrealists of the past, including a playful take on Salvador Dalí and an updated New York version of his Absinthe Jacket, complete with coffee cups, hot dogs, cigarettes, and pigeons. Others were completely literal. One guest declared, “I’m a cunty shrub. I’m a shrub serving cunt.” Surrounded by ethereal rain clouds, passing an Oyster holding a pearl at her stomach as the Mother of Pearl, taking selfies with a literal Bag of Notions, and trying to decode a box-headed figure inspired by The Artist Is Present, the space stopped feeling like a themed party. It became something else entirely. It felt like a room full of people who, for one night, chose not to be embarrassed about wanting to be all in.

To read more or to see the amazing costumes and ambiance, click here (highly recommend.)

Art & Culture

Kawai Kanjiro

I love New York because I’ve been exposed to the work of so many artists that I otherwise would have never know. But, if I tell you about the art, you’re going to hear a lot of “wait..umm…okay yes so, the blue strokes are…important.” Alina is a far better guide through this world. Thankfully, she reported back on Kawai Kanjiro: House to House. It’s a solo exhibition presented by The Japan Society, “celebrating the remarkable life and career of folk potter, poet, and artist Kawai Kanjirō (1890–1966) for the first time in the United States.”

House to House presents Kawai’s work the way it was likely meant to be encountered, not as isolated masterpieces but as natural parts of a home. His earliest ceramics were utilitarian pieces, the kind you could imagine living with every day rather than admiring from behind glass. Even as his work becomes more sculptural, poetic, and philosophical, it never loses its relationship to daily life. Kawai was never interested in separating beauty from use or art from practicality.

To read more about this remarkable event click here. It runs through May 10th!

Broadway Outsider

Meth, Memory and a Cowboy Hat

This is a play that I’m truly enraged that I didn’t get to see. Luckily, our brilliant Broadway columnist, Scott Brooks, did attend for us. He writes in a way that makes you feel like you’re there. Thank GOD! Make sure you read his review here.

Ned Van Zandt, even though the story begins in the seedy underbelly of a no-budget meth lab, is telling a show business memoir, largely through flashback, from a prison cell where he is being forced to provide both oral pleasure and acting lessons to an incarcerated skinhead with a python in his pants.

The Del Valle in the title is a prison in Texas. Despite having the look and energy of a friend of your dad’s who has come over to return a power tool, Ned Van Zandt has seen some shit. Part of the fun of the play is the stories he has to tell and the famous names in them, so I do not want to delve too deeply. Ned was, in fact, a young actor in the seventies who auditioned for Happy Days. I asked him later if he got the part. He did not.

Friend of a Friend is a column featuring interesting New Yorkers we know (and people they know). This is where artists, industry types, every day folks, and under-the-radar personalities share what they’re working on, what they’ve lived through, and what’s actually going on behind the scenes.

STEPHANIE: I get good vibes from you, Shawn. Can you tell people a bit about yourself?

SHAWN: Hey thanks! As a comedic performer, I see myself as a great blend between my father who was very silly and goofy and my mother who was not very funny but very thoughtful. It explains why I’m a little dry plus a little out there.

STEPHANIE: Why time travel?

SHAWN: It just kind of happened. I was home one night (stoned off a weed brownie I made myself) and just stumbled into the thought, “I wonder if anyone owns the domain name “TimeMachineBlueprints.com?” That was the origin. Once I had that, I figured I had some digital license to start thinking about Time Travel in practical or interesting ways. Plus, there was nothing stopping me from self-publishing a book to Amazon called “Time Machine Blueprints”.

Or (even playfully) I like to think it might have been an invitation from the future itself. Once I had merch for a show, I needed to do a show. That’s the concise version of where Secret Time Travel Meeting came from. This also happened around the time that life in NYC started to open up again after the pandemic. I had been thinking deeply about making up for lost time and using time more wisely in the future.

STEPHANIE: I keep thinking about the line “part late-night philosophy hang” in your show’s promo. I love that. It feels like what people are craving right now. Something intimate, with depth, but not pretentious or forced. Why do you think New Yorkers, who choose to live in such a massive city, are drawn to that kind of intimate experience?

SHAWN: The reason I have “meeting” in the title is that I’m definitely trying to invite some level of interaction. Plus there’s no way you can give a comedy “lecture” about Time, Space and the Nature of Reality and not take any questions... or even statements from the audience. And the spontaneous interaction is something you can’t get from being at home and streaming a Netflix series. It’s kinder than a lot of interactions on social media too. New York is so big and crowded that it’s easy to feel isolated. But it’s also so big that there are plenty of opportunities for connection.

STEPHANIE: I get the sense that creatives, especially in theater, are taking themselves really seriously lately. Do you feel that? Am I totally off here? You can be honest. I understand the stakes feel high, and everything has to be more curated than curious because of money. But, your show feels optimistic, not desperate. It feels like it comes from a place of genuine creative joy. Am I onto something, or do I just have a contact high from you?

SHAWN: These are desperate and unprecedented times. So everything feels a little more serious with a heightened sense of urgency. But I’m making a constant effort (or as near constant as can be) to not succumb to the cynicism that a worse or doomed future is inevitable for us all.

The optimistic nature of Secret Time Travel Meeting definitely aligns with who I am or who I’m trying to be. In that way it feels very authentic to me. I sometimes tell audiences that I hope people walk away from the show feeling a little stronger and smarter.

STEPHANIE: Speaking of contact high, marijuana plays a role in your creative process, and I’m jealous of your relationship with Mary Jane. What does she see in you that she doesn’t see in me? Aside from one excellent experience in Amsterdam, every time I’ve smoked, I’ve ended up paranoid, with a racing heart and full-on panic. How do I get better at it?

SHAWN: It might just not be your thing. But I can describe to you why I think it works for me. I’ve done some physical labor jobs in the past (e.g. some theatrical carpentry, running heavy electrical cable for TV shows, some landscaping back when I was in college), so I’m very aware of how great a cold beer tastes and feels after a long day of backbreaking work. For me, getting stoned is like a cold beer for the psyche. Weed takes the edge off of the emotional toll of a grueling existence.

But I also do edibles much more often than smoking. Some people have an even harder time on edibles. I’ve had worse hangovers than bad paranoid moments. But again, I think it isn’t for everyone. Meditation is also very great.

STEPHANIE: If time travel were real, would we all experience the same version of a moment, or would it be shaped by our own biases and perceptions?

SHAWN: I think about this a lot! (LOL) We all have an infinite number of perceptions of reality in the present. It’s hard enough to agree on the now. If we were able to go into the past, I don’t think we’d be able to get an exact grasp on events that happened. We still wouldn’t be able to fully discern the intentions of individuals’ in the past. But we could gain some new level of understanding. I’ve written what I think is a pretty elegant first draft of the Time Traveler’s Oath... or Motto. And it’s:

Learn from the Past. Be in the Present. Hope for the Future.

So while I can’t definitely tell you what traveling to the past or future might be like, I like to think that motto is at least a useful mindset to have.

STEPHANIE: Time travel is a huge, unwieldy concept, especially within the constraints of a play. How did you decide what to keep? How do you build a plot around something so amorphous, and make it digestible for an audience?

SHAWN: That’s kind of easy. I just don’t do the same show twice. I don’t allow any photo or video. I keep it rooted in the present. I always try to add some new jokes or stories. The jokes are integral to the show too because I let the audience know that I think it’s better to let people laugh first before (possibly) blowing their minds later.

So I always keep it a little fresh and exciting for me. I started out in improvisational theatre before getting into stand-up. Letting the show constantly change helps connect me to those improvisational roots.

STEPHANIE: Your show includes voluntary audience participation. I’m always curious about that. How do you keep people from completely derailing things, or is that part of the point?

SHAWN: It happens occasionally but I think I luck out in that most of the other audience members are into the show and deeply or even just casually curious about these things on their own. So if somebody takes the show in a wild direction, I usually end up getting an extremely thoughtful or serious question from someone else that kind of un-hijacks the vibe.

STEPHANIE: If you could go back in time:

→ Who would you drink with?

SHAWN: Hmmm. This is a new one for me. Maybe I’d go with someone who could really challenge my intellect. Someone like Nikola Tesla. He might not have been a drinker. And I might not be able to follow everything he’d say. But that seems like a solid opportunity.

→ Who would you sleep with?

SHAWN: Haha! I’d have to find someone who would sleep with me as well.

→ Who would you drown in a river?

SHAWN: That would, I think, break some ethical Time Travel rules. If we’re afraid of Skynet and Terminators from the Future, we can’t allow ourselves to turn into Terminators as well.

Shawn is hoping to schedule a few shows in NYC for the late spring or early summer. Here’s his website where you can get updates on that. We’ll be there!

Happy Sunday, everyone,

I’m heading to Smorgasburg for the first time this season. In years past, the one near us in Prospect Park on Sundays has been far less crowded than Williamsburg on Saturdays. But based on their Instagram coverage so far, I have a sinking feeling that won’t be the case tomorrow.

I’ll be asking passive-aggressive questions like, “Are you on line for this, I can’t tell haha?” with my kids in tow, all for overpriced cold noodles and ice cream.

AHHHH, Brooklyn.

In other news…

If you’re the kind of person who says “we should go out more” and then… doesn’t, here’s your chance to redeem yourself.

Seaport Follies is taking over Peck Slip Social on Thursday, April 16 at 7:30 PM, and it’s shaping up to be exactly the kind of night downtown does best: a little chaotic, a little boozy, and very committed to a good time. Think: stand-up, live music, and that unpredictable variety-show energy where anything can (and probably will) happen. The lineup pulls from a mix of rising comics and performers: Tatiana Frank, Jaye McBride, Daniel Geneen, Jason Choi, Jared Sterling, Cara Mia, Hot Todd Lincoln, plus whoever else decides to make the night interesting.

We all love the Seaport. If you don’t, you’re a monster. The night benefits the Old Seaport Alliance, a nonprofit focused on preserving the neighborhood’s history. So yes, you can feel culturally responsible while holding a drink. Stephen Dima is a board member for the organization and had this to say to us:

“This event will support the Old Seaport Alliance, a nonprofit proving that protecting history means keeping a community alive and thriving. We’re bringing together some of New York’s funniest comics and talented performers for a very special night, because nothing brings people and community together quite like some shared laughs… and of course a cocktail or two.”

Tickets run $12.50–$28.50 with a two-drink minimum, which, let’s be honest, you were doing anyway. Limited tickets at the door, so don’t bank on your usual “we’ll just see.”

Stephanie
Founder & Editor, Tawk of New Yawk

Broadway Outsider

The Pushover Feels Off From the Start…

Scott Brooks, our long time writer and columnist of Broadway Outsider was invited to see The Pushover last week. It was written by John Patrick Shanley who has created notable works like Danny and the Deep Blue Sea. Its recent 2024 off-Broadway run starred Aubrey Plaza and Christopher Abbott. In comparison, this rendition of The Pushover…well…

The three “bad-ass women” include Rebecca De Mornay, best known for her role in Risky Business. We are asked to believe she is a dangerous, self-made force who irresistibly draws the other two characters in. Instead, her Evelyn spends most of the play lounging and telling us how dangerous she is, delivering a performance that feels more like a high school actor leaning into the idea of being “edgy” than embodying it.

The Pushover could have been redeemable. To read more of Scott’s review, click here.

Art & Culture

Juliette Campbell is Everybody’s Favorite Gal!

Alina Gatrell, our art & culture writer, recently did a feature on Juliette Campbell of Shanghai Mermaid. The comments of love, support, and congratulations for Juliette came pouring in. If you’re not in the know, Juliette hosts thoughtful, dreamy, historical nightlife events. She’s gracious and beloved by so many in the artistic community.

What stood out most was the decor. Instead of the usual cliché red lanterns and paper dragons, the space featured real Chinese artistry. Large vases, intricate tapestries, modern Shanghai signage, and a full-sized dragon moving above the crowd, surrounded by detailed lanterns that felt intentional and immersive.

By the end of the night, what stayed with me most was Juliette herself and the way she built this experience. She has a rare presence. She does not demand attention, but she shapes the room entirely. What she created was not a party that used Chinese American culture as a backdrop, but one that genuinely celebrated it.

Alina attended Shanghai Mermaid’s Lunar New Year event, and you can read more about that here. We’re impatiently waiting to find out more about her spring event. As soon as we learn about it, I’ll let you know.

Screen, Page, Stage

Soviet Film Series Debuts in Mamdani’s Communist New York

Whoops, I thought I was writing for The New York Post for a hot second. Here’s the real scoop. The Metrograph is one of the most enjoyable cinematic experiences to be held in New York. They show old films, classic films, indie films, and films that people forgot existed. There’s a real sense of community too with a ton of events and unique film series which sometimes have talk-backs with cool industry folks. Our film critic and writer, Gregory Garofalo, went to check out The Secret Agent in Metrograph’s series: Boris Barnet, A Soviet Poet.

As both a lover of movies and someone who works in the film industry, I have a surprising ignorance when it comes to Soviet films, so I was very intrigued when I saw that Metrograph was hosting a night of Boris Barnet films. The first thing I noticed, even before the movie started, was just how many people were there. In an age when the stability of the movie theater has never been in more jeopardy, it was extremely heartwarming and optimistic to see so many people show up to watch a 79-year-old movie.

Read more about Gregory’s awesome experience at Metrograph, and maybe like him, you’ll visit and feel compelled to become a member. It really is such a special place.

Substack Lore

I’m into following Phoebe Thompson’s journey lately. Recently, she’s completed her debut novel, Girls Our Age. I haven’t read it yet, but it’s on my list. From what I understand, Phoebe was a perfectionist. Wanting to be a writer and knowing rejection is a huge part of the process, she set out to get comfortable with rejection. She partially wrote a book with no expectation of it getting published just to get comfortable with the process of writing. Phoebe pitched the partially completed book to an aspirational agent knowing it would be rejected (that being the point.)

It wasn’t rejected. In fact, the opposite happened.

A group of men on Substack are upset at her for that now. Why? I say, GOOD FOR HER. Don’t hate the player ballsy enough to play, hate the game.

Aside from that, I generally just enjoy reading her Substack notes lately. She feels relatable and her enthusiasm is refreshing in a time of constant chaos and dismay in these trying times. I’m happy for Phoebe. Why not?

The Sunday Slowdown is a column written by editor and founder, Stephanie, for Tawk of New Yawk - After Dark. It’s a quick note about what’s on her radar for the week followed by a round up of our top articles from the previous week. Stephanie is crowd sourcing answers and opinions on Threads. If that’s of interest to you, be sure to follow us there. Of course, we’ll let you know who and what we’re reading on Substack as well.

Happy Sunday, New York,

The weather in our deeply fucked-up, incredibly perfect city is being a real tease. We’ve hit a few days lately where the temperature creeps up to about 70, and we all collectively lose our minds. It’s not summer by any means, but after a winter with two blizzards, it’s the equivalent of a lady in the 1800s showing a little ankle. I’ll take it.

I’m fascinated by this idea of NYC and Long Island’s “feral spring.”

On those days when it finally hits the high 60s, suddenly money isn’t real. Day drinking is an imperative. Your fourth margarita starts to taste like you need a place to shake your ass. And the people you spent all winter ignoring on the street suddenly look… so attractive?

A few of my fellow New Yorkers were keen to share their thoughts on the phenomenon.

“I’m very affected by gray skies and do kinda get loopy when it’s nice out again,” says Jeff Harding, former wine director at the Waverly Inn, thus confirming that this is indeed a real thing. Jeff has been enjoying time spent on his porch, and we love that for him.

A college student here in the city, Krys (@Krysxcamy), made me yearn for the days of being 21 with her take on feral spring:

“When it starts to get warm outside, you somehow start missing classes, because why would you want to be in an air-conditioned building learning about physics when you could be outside on the lawn drinking a tall boy at 3 PM with your friends? … Day party (DARTY) season begins again, and of course, what is feral spring without a BORG?”

“I don’t have to wear a jacket anymore to hide my outfits. I can be drunk during the daytime and it’s OK. Gonna find me a nice rock to sit on and smoke some weed with some friends… But feral spring is just the beginning. Wait until Mamdani Summer comes.”

I think we all deserve a BORG right about now.

Stephanie
Founder & Editor, Tawk of New Yawk

Screen, Page, Stage

Fringe Festival Coverage

We’re covering Frigid’s NYC Fringe Festival season this month. Here’s a note on that:

There’s so many evocative and unique plays at Fringe this year, and you can see many of them on livestream if you can’t make it to the theater. We’ve written about some of the ones we’re most excited for. Check out part one here and part two right here.

Bite Me.

Alex Tangen is our Girl Boss Hero.

Sarah Wadsley sat down with Alex Tangen (twice!) to learn more about Kabin, her Scandinavian themed cocktail bar located in SoHo. At just 28 years old, Alex opened Kabin with the hope of sharing her beloved Scandi cabin culture with New Yorkers.

Knowing it would be challenging to enter the industry without experience, Alex shadowed at several restaurants. After a steep learning curve, she began raising funding. She invested in her opening team, bringing in top industry names such as Eloy Pacheco of Dante to create the cocktail menu, award-winning mixologist Pam Wiznitzer, and Michelin-starred chef Johnny Spero to develop the food program. Having such high-caliber collaborators helped attract strong hires, which Alex notes is one of the toughest parts of running a bar in New York City.

Alex is incredibly down to earth, has impressive business acumen, and with impeccable taste in design, food, culture, and drink we couldn’t be happier for her and we wish her continued success.

Art & Culture

The New York Belly Dance Festival

Soraya Omtzigt, one of our art & culture contributors specializing in dance, covered the New York Belly Dance Festival and left humbled and excited. On taking a class during the weekend festival with Sadie, a USA based choreographer for Shakira, Soraya says:

Sadie is an incredible educator as well as a dance artist. In the Friday class, she broke down steps that seemed second nature to many dancers in a way that was accessible to everyone. And wow, I was humbled. Belly dancing is hard. The specificity of which muscles need to engage, which need to relax, which need to stay engaged, and which need to release immediately, all while staying on beat with the music and maintaining expression, is no small feat.

Read about her entire weekend here and check out our Instagram to see Soraya’s interview with Sadie who was, we can’t stress this enough, freakin’ SHAKIRA’S CHOREOGRAPHER.

Substack Lore

None for this week! Try again next week!

What a fucking week, am I right? Between beloved Ronald McDonald–inspired drag queen Chappell Roan asking her security guard to injure that child and me pretending like I know anything about the Strait of Hormuz, I am wiped.

Having lived in New York all of my life, I always thought I had experienced the bulk of what Fitzgerald called “the inexhaustible variety of life.” He meant people in New York City. But after a lunch at La Pecora Bianca on the UWS this week, I’ve changed my mind. I think New York is more like the ocean. How many crazy, weird fish are in this sea? So many. The woman next to us talked about every pope, in order, and what she felt their true stances on abortion must have been. This went on for an hour. Every time my friend or I spoke, she covered her ears like a train was shuddering past her table. Lunch and a show. Delightful!

Spring is here. With it, I feel a little more hopeful. I hope you do too.

Enjoy your week, New York.

Stephanie
Founder & Editor, Tawk of New Yawk

Where We Were

• We get asked to review shows a lot, and it’s always a privilege. But something about this one, where audience members are made to wear gimp masks and balaclavas as they enter the world of a sex worker (not so subtly modeled on Bonnie Blue), really struck me. Alina Gatrell wrote a fantastic piece on the performance, Body Count, as part of SoHo Playhouse’s Fringe Festival. Read it here.

• Matthew Broderick talks about putting balls in his mouth and more in American Ulster at Irish Repertory Theatre. Read Scott’s Broadway Outsider column about the play, and other insane lines from it, here.

• There’s been a lot of drama over this year’s Whitney Museum Biennial. Thankfully, we’ve gotten great feedback that our piece is one of the most balanced and really pays attention to details others miss. Read Alina’s article here.

• This St. Patrick’s Day, I felt very lucky as editor when one of our writers, Sarah Wadsley, scored an interview with Ken Casey of the Dropkick Murphys. As they prepare to celebrate their 30th (!!!) anniversary with a tour, Ken reflects on the band’s beginnings. Read that here.

Substacks We’re Reading

I recently came across the writing of Ines Glaser. She makes food writing feel like a museum visit, like breezing through a chapter of a beloved classic novel, and watching an evocative foreign film all in one.

I just started reading Nicole Carullo’s Bip & Bop. The writing field feels more oversaturated than ever. I’d only admit this to the 75 of you who read this, but it makes me anxious. Resentful. Depressed. Nicole makes me excited not just about writing, but about being creative, which is why any writer should write.

I’d just like to remind you to kindly fork over your five dollars a month to us. Five dollars a month is not what’s separating you from generational wealth or that home in the Hamptons. Jeff Bezos doesn’t need your fucking money. We do. Hand it over. It’s never been easier. Click the button below.

Subscribe now

If I enter a party and I’m outdone by the other guests, I know I’m in for a good time.

I consider myself a reasonably fashionable person. I consider myself a reasonably stubborn person, one who will commit to the bit. I consider myself a reasonably humble person who can give it up to someone when they turn a way better look than me. I am emotionally prepared to enter a party with a dress code and be bested. I encourage it.

At Shanghai Mermaid’s Dragon Ball, I felt fashionably bested, in the best way possible.

Shanghai Mermaid puts on an annual Lunar New Year celebration and graciously extended me a ticket. Dress code instructions included “jazz age finest,” “elegant dressy vintage or vintage-inspired,” “high glamour,” “fabulous creative,” and “formal.” I slipped on my favorite long floral dress I scored at a consignment store (designer, at a deep discount!) and met my friend Taylor, wearing a chic LBD.

Imagine our total delight when we arrived to see the space teeming with simply amazing looks: overflowing headpieces, strategic sparkles, flowers and feathers and fringe.

We looked at each other in a mutual “oh shit.” We immediately started brainstorming how we could elevate our looks next year. Now, that’s a good feeling to me. I love when an entire event commits like that. All in or nothing. Good sign.

The space called for that, too. Held in the stunning Beaux-Arts Estonian House, this felt like your coolest house party ever. Guests meandered among floors: the first floor hosting the main bar and food area, with side rooms to split off into, and the upstairs housing larger performances alongside more alcohol.

Classy cocktails lubricated the event. The timing let guests linger, marinate. My friend Taylor and I love to talk (we often stand for hours chatting after our weekly dance classes), and we found ourselves enveloped in conversations in secret corners or sitting at the bar. The space oozed charisma—dimly lit and inviting.

I understand why the Dragon Ball is Shanghai Mermaid’s signature event. Lunar New Year exudes joy, and the performances reflected that. Energy reverberated around the room, from romantic pop covers to whistling flute to the stunning classical Chinese dance by Ling Tang.

Again—the coolest house party you know.

Guests migrated from floor to floor, following the performances. Sure, there was seating, but I most often found people curled around the dance floor, excited to watch the show. I cannot stress how mesmerized I was by the wonderful Ling Tang, gracefully moving across the center of the room. It truly electrified my Saturday night.

Shanghai Mermaid is firmly on my radar now. Cool events by Juliette Campbell, its cool organizer. A little bird told me there’s an event percolating for the springtime. I’ll be keeping an eye on their Instagram to learn more. You should too.

BAR TO TRY THIS WEEKEND: Black Rabbit in Greenpoint

I spend a lot of my time in Greenpoint. I live about 10 minutes away, hopelessly lust for Radio Bakery often, and roast in McCarren Park frequently (carefully ignoring everything I’ve read about the lead). I pick up takeout at Wenwen and peruse the outdoor secondhand shopping on Nassau in the warm weather.

Crucially, I also love Black Rabbit.

Black Rabbit is cozy. It is barely lit. The booths are deep and tall, creating little cocoons for each party. They have a sprawling backyard I love and hope to enjoy once the weather figures out its mood. They serve excellent pimento cheese and spicy pickles. They have a strong drink list and an everyday happy hour until 8 p.m.

I just love Black Rabbit.

Listen, I know many people don’t go to Greenpoint often if they don’t live off the G train, and I can’t say I fault you for it. If you do, though, give Black Rabbit a try. For me, it’s ol’ reliable.

Cheers to the New York weekend,

Jen

Love to all,

Stephanie

Founder & Editor, Tawk of New Yawk

Initially formed after a bet, Boston punk band the Dropkick Murphys has seen members come and go, but is still going strong thirty years later. Frontman Ken Casey has been there for every single one of them. I got to speak with Ken about the band’s pearl anniversary, and they do not show signs of slowing down anytime soon. They are currently touring the U.S. before several home gigs at Fenway, then heading on to summer shows in Canada and across Europe.

On the phone from his hotel room in Tuscaloosa, en route to Texas for their next performance, Ken was relaxed and chatty, opening up about the journey over these last few decades. Though I felt like a kid both intrigued by and doubtful of a rumor, I asked him about the origins of the Dropkick Murphys. Turns out it was 100 percent true.

Born out of a dare from a Berklee student, Ken was challenged to stop talking about getting a band together and actually get a band together, with only three weeks’ notice. He says that without that push, it may never have happened.

“I think... without that hanging over my head... that motivation, I would’ve probably never done it.”

Working in the laborers’ union and bartending at night, while also studying part-time at college to become a teacher, Ken was busy. It sounds like the typical hustle of any artist, trying to keep up with the demands of adult life while still trying to actually live. He had always talked about starting a band with the intention of playing covers in the basement, and here he was putting one together.

“We did it strictly... for a laugh, to win the bet and do something kind of outrageous, and all our friends came just to laugh at us. And they were all, ‘Wow, you guys were... better than we expected you to be!’ I had never even touched an instrument... wrote a song. So it was a lot to bite off in three weeks.”

And while some early numbers have been long forgotten, some of their early work is still with them.

“While we were rehearsing to figure out how to play [our first] show, I wrote... a song that we still play... Our first ever song is still in our set today, which is kinda wild to think about.”

From the grassroots beginnings of friends attending to support and jeer them, the Dropkick Murphys started to develop a fan base.

“We decided to give it a whirl and play in front of human beings that we didn’t know... opening up for a legendary Massachusetts/Boston-area hardcore band called the Freeze... The Rat [Rathskeller Club], which was our version of CBGB, in Boston, was really our home.”

From the 1970s on, Boston had a thriving punk rock and hardcore scene. Venues like The Rat and Spit, both sadly now closed, were the “undisputed center of activity for Boston’s... music scene”¹ and the launching pad for many successful bands. Boston’s lively club culture filled Kenmore Square and nearby Fenway Park, hosting the Ramones, the Pixies, and the Cars, among others, and was also where bands such as the Police and Metallica got their start.

Ken said it came down to having pride in your local music scene. Bands hosted in Boston wanted to look good, so they made sure to have a big crowd waiting for you, to return the favor. That camaraderie with other bands was a huge part of their early success.

“The Boston punk scene was just so massive in the mid-’90s... We would book these shows where we brought maybe seven other bands from seven other Northeast cities, and they would all come and have the time of their life... and they’d go back to their city talking about how good Boston was, and they’d owe us a show... That really helped us build that underground following.”

And then the Dropkick Murphys began to toy with the possibility of touring the U.S. They thought they would all take leave and go back to their day jobs afterwards.

“Little did we know we’d never go back to our regular lives.”

From their homegrown beginnings, and with a lot of hard work, the Dropkick Murphys continued to grow in popularity. A reminder that even big successes do not happen overnight.

“It’s the prime example of ‘be careful what you ask for’... You know, people say, ‘It’s beyond my wildest dreams.’ We didn’t even have wildest dreams. We were just trying to do something for fun.”

And they were not afraid of getting their hands dirty. Ken used to silk-screen their band T-shirts and make flyers to promote their shows, getting a kick out of spreading the word and embracing the DIY nature of the band’s origins.

“Our goals [became] to split 7-inch records with other bands. Then we did our own CD, which was just an EP, and... we just thought it was cool... ‘Woah, we accomplished recording music.’”

Imagine what young Ken Casey would think, looking at where they are now.

Soon, instead of splitting pressings with other bands that they would sell at local stores, they were making their own records.

“I got a call one day from Tim Armstrong, from [punk rock band] Rancid, who was... starting a new label [Hellcat Records], an offshoot of Epitaph, and he was putting out a compilation called Give ’Em the Boot, which was roots-based punk- and ska-type bands... bands that were more based in that original 1977-era British punk stuff... or... real old ska- and reggae-influenced... and man, when that comp came out it really kinda launched us worldwide... All of a sudden that’s our first song... the first song we ever wrote.”

That song was “Barroom Hero,” the song written because of a bet between friends. The song that launched their career.

“Based on the response that song got on the compilation, Tim... offered us to do an album on his label, and next thing you know we were touring at least six to nine months a year...”

The Dropkick Murphys have now released thirteen albums and over 100 songs so far. In 2025 alone, they traveled to over fourteen countries. They have won at least eight Boston Music Awards and played together for thirty years, including yearly St. Patrick’s Day tours in the U.S. And they are not even close to being done.

Part of what makes their music so widely enjoyed is its versatility. Previously citing bands such as AC/DC, the Dubliners, and the Sex Pistols as major influences, the band has floated in and out of many styles of music over their thirty years, including British punk and Oi!, as well as American hardcore and rock, plus the Celtic music that was prominent in their Boston upbringing.

“Classic rock and hard rock was always an influence... Traditional Irish music was an influence on us. Subliminally, as children, you knew the songs before you came around later to realize you even liked the songs. Bands like the Clash... [were] some of the first we were ever exposed to live.”

And Boston has strong Irish roots. Ken told me it has always had an undeniable influence on them.

“In a city like New York or Boston it was real, you couldn’t escape it. The patriarch or matriarch of every family was from Ireland, so the music centered around Irish music...”

It was ingrained.

Courtesy: Dropkick Murphys

From the first European settlers in the 1700s to the huge wave of Irish immigrants coming to the city during the colonial period, today Boston still has the largest percentage of Irish descendants of any major American city. And Irish Americans are very proud of their heritage. Did you know that Boston has the most Irish pubs of any city outside Ireland, beating New York?² Much of the city of Boston was built with Irish labor, including Back Bay and the Boston subway system.

Though Irish culture in Boston did not knowingly influence the Dropkick Murphys at first, soon reviewers were comparing their singles to bands such as the Dubliners and the Ramones.³ Ken thinks it was because of their vocal delivery and the rambling quality of their songs. So they leaned into it.

“That [gave] us somewhat of a uniqueness to the band and also opened the doors to a lot of [new fans]. Even when we were more of a raging punk band, people would be like, ‘My father likes to come with me... because you do a couple of punked-up versions of traditional songs...’ People... could identify with that.”

And while they have played the 3Arena in Dublin and get a very good reception in Ireland, Ken believes the reason the Dropkick Murphys are so accepted there is because they have never pretended to be Irish, but have always been authentically who they are.

“I was always brought up in that mindset of, I’m an Irish American. My experience is what it is in Boston, not [in Ireland]. I feel like we got a little bit of respect for that, because that’s how we carried ourselves over there [in Ireland]. And it translates to Ireland just like it translates to England or Germany or whatever, because we’re talking about universal issues and universal causes.”

But when your band has skillfully danced the line between musical genres for years, it seems it can sometimes be frustrating to be labeled Celtic punk.

“We’d always get these reviews and we’d roll our eyes. It would say ‘Guinness-soaked punk rock,’ and I’d think, ‘I feel like we’re more like Budweiser-soaked punk rock!’ We’re always way more American. We are American... We’re an American band with the Irish influence, but not the other way around.”

Ken spoke passionately about the wonderful new wave of music coming out of Ireland.

“There’s a band called the Mary Wallopers... they sound so authentic... It’s timeless, is what it is. It really sounds so authentically old-fashioned, and I say that in a complimentary way... It’s so nice to see... younger bands that are kind of exploding.”

He also emphasized that if you are looking for more traditional music this St. Patrick’s Day, there are plenty of pubs with great trad bands playing. It is just not who the Dropkick Murphys are.

“We did always pride ourselves lyrically on documenting the experience of being Boston Irish... Same with New York, it’s a unique experience of how people came here...”

Irish immigrants were treated badly when they first arrived in America, with anti-Catholic and anti-immigrant sentiment growing. Many gained passage as servants and worked for years before earning their freedom, and there was much resentment in areas such as the previously Protestant Boston toward the large numbers of Irish Catholic immigrants embedding themselves in the community and getting involved in politics. JFK was the great-grandson of Irish immigrants.

“The Irish [have] always had more respect for our political messages than a lot of our fellow Americans have had.”

Well, Ireland has a long history of standing up against oppressive rulers. But, as Ken reminded me, people easily forget.

“I’m always so befuddled by how Irish Americans can support Donald Trump, and support what’s happening with immigration, and ICE... In a few short generations a lot of people forget how they got to where they are.”

Boston’s Irish Catholic paper The Pilot themselves said, “Unworthy descendant... is the man who earns his bread by sowing discord and brewing religious hate.”⁴ They were speaking of Republican George William Curtis’ implication that Irish Americans, and anyone not a direct descendant, could not celebrate the founding of America, but I think it remains particularly relevant.

St. Patrick’s Day began as a religious holiday in honor of Saint Patrick, who introduced Christianity to Ireland in the fifth century. Celebrations date as far back as the 1600s, but today St. Patrick’s Day is cause for celebration of all things Ireland. And as the day of green and clover approaches, the Dropkick Murphys are preparing for their concerts at Fenway Park.

When I asked Ken his favorite part of the annual tradition, he said simply, “It’s the homecoming.”

Every year they perform a series of concerts at home in Boston around St. Patrick’s Day.

“One of the downsides of touring as much as we do is you miss a lot of weddings, funerals, gatherings... because you’re away... Our whole lives come to us on that weekend. So, in addition to the fans that are there, our friends and family are there... We get to make up for a lot of lost time, and hang with a lot of good people...”

You would think, given their spontaneous conception and the larger-than-normal headcount of band members, that agreeing on ideas and writing hit songs would be difficult, but Ken says the Dropkick Murphys do not struggle with the creative process at all.

“We don’t really ever record unless we’re motivated and inspired... I remember at one point in our career we went four years without a record... a lot of us were starting to have children... We’re not going to put out an album that we don’t feel in our hearts.”

But personally, though he says it does work well, giving a song the chance to develop or being able to make changes before it goes public, Ken finds the recording process slower than he would like.

“I’m such an immediate-gratification guy... I love writing the songs and having the song develop, but then I want it out on an album the next day! [But] when you’re a seven-piece band, it takes a while... We’ll sometimes be in [the studio] a month...”

Even though they never go in to record without the full album already written. It is too risky to do otherwise, he says.

“I want to write the song, and have the people hear the song, and start singing along with us!”

Getting that feedback from live audiences is a big part of what keeps the Dropkick Murphys going thirty years later, even with the mental and physical demands of being on the road.

“[I] can say I played a show in New Zealand, or Russia, or Japan. I don’t know if I can narrow [my favorite] down to just one show... I would say places like Southern Europe, like Greece, the reception they give bands when they come there, it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up... A passion that I’ve never seen anywhere!”

Ken told me that some of his favorite memories from their decades of touring have been getting to meet people of different cultures.

“Before the band I lived a fairly sheltered life in the sense that I wasn’t worldly, I hadn’t seen much other than Boston... To be able to look back and say not only do I get to do this as a career, but I get to say I’ve made friends in so many different countries [is great].”

When asked if he had ever been given a standout piece of advice, he told me a story about a German band called the Broilers, who they have been friends with for years and who started out in the same scene as the Dropkick Murphys.

“Sammy the singer said to me, and it’s funny because he’s probably younger than me, ‘Remember to focus on the people in the back of the room, and up in the balconies, and not just the people down front on the barricade with their fist in the air singing along, because those people paid the same money...’ And I was like, ‘Wow.’”

Ken was grateful for the reminder.

“To me, those people in the front, putting heart and soul into it in the pit, singing along, obviously that pumps us up and motivates us, but yeah, there might be people who love your music just as much... up in the balcony. Remember they’re there... And I’ve been doing this thirty years!”

That could almost be a lesson for the bigwigs who run the world today.

And while they are no doubt role models for younger bands, the Dropkick Murphys have not forgotten where they came from. They are enjoying the journey but never stop learning.

Courtesy: Dropkick Murphys

“I think in any career you have to always be willing to learn and grow. Especially in this day and age, the way the world’s changing so fast... By the same token, we are relearning some stuff back from [bands such as Haywire]. Get back down in the trenches a little bit.”

Ken chuckled about the boundless energy their opening acts have when they perform.

“They remind us so much of how we toured in the early days...”

But having seen the Dropkick Murphys myself less than a year ago, I told him they did not look too bad themselves for a bunch of old guys. Trust me and catch one of their shows. Their energy, and their message, is awesome.

“When we get on the stage we still feel like we give it 110 percent... but we play five nights a week... You get to a certain age and... just need a day off.”

Being on the road for so long has been an education in self-care, figuring out what their bodies need to survive touring.

“You have to know your limits... I [used to] be up and out in the morning, going sightseeing or playing golf, and I’m so glad I got that opportunity because I know so many bands who have only seen the world from backstage of the local barroom...”

Before the Dropkick Murphys, Ken had never been out of New England.

“It was [an] amazing opportunity. But nowadays it’s like, ‘Hey, you can’t burn the candle at both ends’... You gotta pace yourself...”

Ken says they all just try their best. Sometimes he misses the mark, and sometimes he manages to be well-rested.

He is also grateful for the opportunities the Dropkick Murphys have afforded him outside of seeing the world, such as the ability to provide for his children in a way he would not have been able to otherwise.

“I have three kids. It all [the band] happened during their lives, obviously...”

Though there were plenty of things he missed out on, Ken knows how great it was to have long stretches between tours to be present in their lives.

“I would make the comparison to being in the Merchant Marines. When I was gone, I was gone, and that was tough, especially on their mother. But when I was home, I got to have that real quality time.”

Most working parents do not have that.

The universal issues raised in their music are, I believe, part of why New York audiences respond to the Dropkick Murphys. We understand the struggle represented in a lot of their songs, the feeling of futility that comes with living amid the current political climate. It has become incredibly difficult for working-class Americans to survive. So many of us wrestle to make a decent wage. It feels as though the government has forgotten about us and is only interested in lining its own pockets. Landlord tax loopholes are making rent prices skyrocket. Families cannot afford groceries. Hell, it is still not affordable childless. Our hard-earned taxpayer money is going to support overseas nations like Israel, whose citizens already benefit from policies such as universal healthcare while our fellow Americans do not.

“Nowadays you look at a neighborhood like South Boston and nobody that grew up there can afford to live there.”

Cities like New York and Boston are pricing us out, even though there would be nothing left without us.

“I just saw a great quote today: ‘We need to measure how our economy is doing... by how the bottom third percent of the country does at the supermarket, not how the top one percent does at the stock market.’ And that is at the core of Dropkick Murphys’ message and always has been.”

The fearlessness of the Dropkick Murphys in changing their style depending on their current tastes, or what is going on in the world, has kept their music fresh and engaging. After the COVID-19 pandemic they recorded two acoustic albums of unpublished Woody Guthrie lyrics as a tribute, but they were eager to get back to their roots.

“I think by the time we were done being chained down to acoustic, which was fun, don’t get me wrong, but... between that and the political climate and how we [felt] inside, we were ready to be loud and angry.”

Speaking of the political landscape, a current common fallacy is that politics has no place in art, and artists should just shut up and play, or sing, or act, or paint. But art has always been inherently political. From ancient Greek poetry and Shakespeare’s commentaries on monarchs, to movie musicals such as Chicago and musicians like Billy Joel, art has always come from a longing to express how we are feeling about the world around us. And the Dropkick Murphys have never shied away from telling the truth of the populace. They are also passing the baton to younger bands.

“The band Slugger... from California, they’re [one of] the opening acts on tour with us right now... they’re very much activists out in the community. They’re such good kids... probably not selling much merchandise, but every night they’re donating proceeds of $150 to $200 from their merchandise sales to local causes... to people in the immigrant community who have been victimized by ICE. It’s so good to see that the next generation is carrying that banner.”

Much of the Dropkick Murphys’ catalogue reflects the lives of those around them, the working-class Americans and immigrants who love our country but are feeling drained and abused by the big machine. They have advocated for first responders, trade unions, military veterans, and children, and have spoken boldly about politics and our political representatives. Perhaps their longevity stems from the honesty in their music. It has always been for the people, and their message is that we cannot forget that the government works for us.

I asked Ken if it ever feels too tiring to continue in the face of the current social and political climate in the U.S. and across the world. His reply was that if it were easy, then it probably would not be needed at that moment.

“It’s when it’s more difficult... that it’s at its most important.”

His answer gives me hope that perhaps more people in positions of influence will step forward and stand up for the rest of us.

“The populations that have always been a big part of our audience... first responders, working class, Irish Americans... a lot of those people that came up lockstep with our beliefs, suddenly bought into the lie that billionaires... would take care of them better than anyone else. So it divided people, it divided our fan base... I just find it a lot easier to say, ‘Hey, we’re not the ones who changed, you did. Our message has never changed.’ You can talk hyperbole all you want, ‘Woke this, woke that.’ [Billionaires] will always stab you in the back. So I feel very comfortable in speaking out and saying, if you come at us for our beliefs, why didn’t you come at us when we sang these same beliefs in the ’90s and 2000s?”

Because you agreed with us then, he finished.

But the frustrating thing is, they do agree. I have seen it. They sing along and pump their fists with the music, the war cry of brothers in arms. But many are not living like they agree. They are working against their own best interests.

“For some people they do agree with the message... as long as we don’t attack the cult leader... If I say his [Trump’s] name, they come unglued... He’s a con artist. He’s ruined every business he ever touched... I hate to see what he has done to America.”

Ken believes we have fewer differences than we think. There are so many issues that should unite us.

“They want us all fighting amongst each other, while they’re stealing all the money out the back door. With career politicians on both sides there’s [always] been some of that.”

Look at the tariffs, for example, applied illegally, that cost hard-working Americans more money and put the country into greater debt now that we need to reverse them.

“As long as there’s big money, corporate interest... in politics, it will bring out the worst in a lot of human beings... And now on top of that with these [Epstein] files coming out... for Christ’s sake, can this be what finally makes us just come back together and say, ‘Hey, let’s stop looking left or right, let’s start looking up [for the problem]’?”

A lifelong Democrat, Ken has actually voted Republican once before, for the Republican governor in Massachusetts.

“I supported him because I know his character... He was very out in front of the opioid crisis... which at the time was killing a friend of mine a week, it seemed... But he also had the highest governor rating of any governor in America. But someone like him could never get out of a Republican primary if he ran for president.”

Ken believes the two-party system is broken and has led a lot of Americans to step away from politics and voting in general. But we need people to vote, to vote with their conscience, and to hold politicians to a higher standard.

“I think the biggest sign of... strong character at this point... is refusal to take money from big corporate interests and AIPAC... because it shows right off the rip that you’re willing to stand up for what you believe in and not be bought and sold... I don’t care how good they are and what they say, if they’re bought already by large corporate donations, [when] push comes to shove they’re not going to vote the way they need to [for the American people].”

The Dropkick Murphys are not afraid to put their money where their mouth is, either. They recently left their talent agency over the CEO’s inclusion in the Epstein files, which are proving to be one of the biggest scandals in modern history, showing proof of deep-seated corruption and abuse at the highest levels.

“This is at the heart of the problem in America. If people with skin in the game don’t take a stand, then how can they expect everyone else behind them to do it as well... Not that it was easy for us. We’ve been with our booking agents since before Wasserman [Music] had ever bought their company... No disrespect to our agents, no disrespect to all the great employees at Wasserman... We’ve never even met Casey Wasserman... But at the same time, we had to say to our agents, ‘Hey man, we’re not sitting around ’til you work this out.’ I do know that our agents will do the right thing, they’ll either make sure he’s completely divested from that company, or they’ll leave themselves, but we can’t wait around ’til they figure it out.”

Ken hopes other bands will follow suit, saying the bigger the band is, the less they need to stay, because they can get any agent they want.

“Our fans are our shareholders. They do hold us to accountability.”

He believes we should model ourselves on how other countries are handling those who have shown up in the Epstein files.

“It’s like BAM, immediate removal, moving to prosecution.”

How long until something is done about it here at home in America? Is this really how we want people in positions of power, in what used to be the greatest and most respected country in the world, to represent us?

Ken says the best part about being such a successful band is being their own boss and making their own decisions.

“We’ve always operated on the outskirts of the music industry. Even as we grew as a band, it kind of was a do-it-yourself thing... We’ve... kept it like a small family business... It’s nice to have that kind of control, and when you have that... you can get involved in a lot of passion projects. Like the Woody Guthrie record, or charity work, or saying what we want to say politically. It’s nice to have that freedom.”

While many Americans have been tricked into hurling their anger and fear at each other, conveniently distracted from those keeping us all down, the Dropkick Murphys have been giving back to the community through a charity they created called the Claddagh Fund.

Courtesy: Dropkick Murphys

“The band was always involved in charitable stuff... Sometimes being in a band can seem like a selfish endeavor... and it felt like doing the charity stuff made the whole thing... more worthwhile.”

Founded in 2009, the Claddagh Fund began as a way for the band to get more involved in the communities they visit and honors the three attributes of the Claddagh Ring: Friendship, Love, and Loyalty. Today they support many different organizations with a focus on programs that support children, veterans’ organizations, cancer research, and alcohol and drug rehabilitation.

“Substance abuse treatment, and helping others with alcoholism and substance abuse, is one of the main things we focus on, and it’s been something that has personally impacted many of our lives. Whether it’s the individual band members... like myself, who were sober before the band even started, or guys who have got sober along the way, or all the loved ones and friends that we’ve lost to overdoses throughout the years... It was just a subject near and dear to our heart.”

They even raised over $100,000 for victims of the Boston Marathon bombing.

Their mission is to raise money for community-based nonprofits, to support the most vulnerable individuals in our communities who are largely forgotten by government aid. As of 2022, the Claddagh Fund had raised more than $5 million.⁵ You can find ways to donate, purchase merch, or see their upcoming events and fundraisers at claddaghfund.org.

When I asked Ken the best parts about visiting NYC, he laughed and said New York has always treated the Dropkick Murphys “like a cousin they couldn’t stand,” and said one of his favorite things to do in the city is talk shit about the Yankees.

“We’ve always enjoyed a back and forth with New York... [It’s] always fun... rivalries to a degree but always a lot of love and shared similarities... New York is one of those cities...”

It is a friendly rivalry, he said. Like the ad, “Your cousin from Boston.”

He reminisced about the early days playing venues down in St. Mark’s Place.

“One night [I watched] Joey Ramone walking down the street with one of our soccer jerseys that he bought... I said to our merch guy, ‘You better have given that to him’... He goes... ‘He insisted on buying it.’ New York was one of those places that we were going and doing underground shows... long before we were a real touring band.”

I asked Ken to tell me more about the punk scene, what it was like, whether it was ultra-competitive between the bands.

“It was like family... A total sense of community... The godfathers of New York hardcore, Agnostic Front, took us on one of our very first full U.S. tours... in 1997... Once you had the blessing of Agnostic Front, New York treated you well, no matter what.”

In terms of his favorite NYC venues, he emphasized how great the punk spots were back in the day, such as CBGB, Wetlands Preserve, and Coney Island High.

“We also used to have amazing shows at the Roseland Ballroom, which is no longer there... We’ve just got some great memories in New York all around.”

But then Ken left memory lane and gushed about a contemporary site, Pier 17.

“Outside with the Brooklyn Bridge behind you, I don’t know how you can top that venue. That’s about as good as it gets for a band if you ask me. Just being able to be on stage and look around at the city and the water. It’s just amazing!”

Sidenote to our readers: having had the opportunity to see two concerts at the Rooftop at Pier 17, one of which was a Dropkick Murphys show, I highly recommend it. It is a stunning NYC venue that advertises a long list of visiting artists every summer.

His favorite restaurant, though he despairs that it got sold and thinks it may now be corporate, was Quality Meats.

“...right up by Central Park. I love that place... [And] somewhere down in Little Italy, there’s a bunch of small mom-and-pop joints. I can’t even remember their names... But Vinnie Stigma from Agnostic Front was a Little Italy guy, showed us all the best of the best.”

Italian is Ken’s favorite food to get while in NYC.

“That’s where all my memories are at.”

As for what is next for the Dropkick Murphys, Ken says they never look that far into the future. They take it a day at a time.

“Put your best foot forward. You never know what tomorrow may bring... At this point, I say we look more toward not so much growing as a band as we do protecting the legacy of the band... making sure we stay true to what we’re about.”

And I think that is admirable.

For a band whose music has always been for the people, their accessibility to their fans has been the most important thing to them.

“I like to say I’ve probably [shaken] 80 percent of the hands of the people who have come to Dropkick Murphys over the years, because... we want to meet and know the people who have given us this amazing opportunity... If it wasn’t for the people, we wouldn’t be doing it. We wouldn’t be able to...”

The Dropkick Murphys are for the fans. For the people. Since 1996.

For the People is the thirteenth studio album by the Dropkick Murphys, released in July 2025. They have a split LP with Haywire available at any of their shows, becoming commercially available via retail and streaming right around St. Patrick’s Day. Ken kindly asks that you visit claddaghfund.org to see how you can help with their mission.

This column started with a write-up of Heartbeat Opera’s annual Drag Extravaganza. That show ushered me into Heartbeat Opera’s world: reimagined, modernized, and accessible to newbies and snobs alike. It enticed me. It made me crave more. It allowed me to imagine opera as something not coated in dust—something playful, something that could make me giggle, something I’d keep turning over in my mind long after the curtain call. Recently, I caught a performance of Heartbeat Opera’s Manon, and I fell even deeper in love with their brand of approachable art. They make opera feel cool and fresh—the kind of show you can impress a date with before traipsing off to that new wine bar.

Opera has always felt like it required a study guide. You’re expected to know the plot going in, since the lyrics will inevitably be in Italian, French, or German. Sure, you can ride the emotional highs and follow the blocking to get the gist, but it’s nice to have, you know, an actual idea of what’s going on. Luckily for me, Heartbeat Opera presented this condensed adaptation in English, so I arrived with little plot knowledge—which is just how I like it. Leave it to the artists, and they’ll guide me where I need to go. My performance fell on one of New York City’s many recent frigid days, so we shed our coats, wrapped cold hands around complimentary mulled wine, and found our seats. The stage was strewn with chandeliers; the audience crowded around it and up into the rafters, which the actors made full use of throughout the show.

This charming performance tipped me from “I get why people enjoy opera” to “I enjoy opera.” The cast led that charge. Emma Grimsley’s Manon boasts a voice that makes your chest swell—full, rich, and deeply moving. She seamlessly guides Manon from doe-eyed and naïve to embodied and quippy, and her performance sells the show. The rest of the cast deserves flowers, too: the youthful, unabashed love in Matt Dengler’s Chevalier; the playful confidence of Pousette and Javotte, played by Kathryn McCreary and Natalie Walker; the dynamite facial expressions of Jamari Darling’s Lescaut. Electric chemistry hums throughout, especially between Manon and Chevalier, allowing the audience to relax easily into their world. The staging feels understated in the best way—textured and rich, yet always letting the vocals (and the wonderful band accompaniment) shine.

I’m torn between wanting to gatekeep Heartbeat Opera and wanting to shout about them from the rooftops—but I’m landing firmly on the rooftops. These are Broadway-caliber shows, staged inventively in cool corners of New York, right at your fingertips. At the end of each performance, company leaders join the cast onstage to thank the audience and remind us how vital it is to engage with art right now. They’re right. Investing in sharp, creative projects and community organizations feels more necessary with each passing day, with each passing budget cut to the things we hold dear. These folks fully converted me into an opera fan. It’s worth checking out—I promise.

Be Our Sugar Daddy

BAR TO CHECK OUT THIS WEEKEND: Pete’s Candy Store, Williamsburg

Pete’s Candy Store has hosted many chapters of my life. They threw my 26th birthday (woo!), when an unseasonably warm October day allowed me to pack friends onto the patio and throughout the space. I’ve been to raucous Halloween parties here, including one where I threw together a last-minute Charli XCX costume by spelling “BRAT” in black tape across a green tank top. I’ve tried—and failed—to make trivia night because I arrived too late, the room already teeming with hopeful participants. I’ve craned my neck to listen to a cool artist playing in the back. I’ve had exactly one drink here before hopping on the L to head deeper into Brooklyn.

Somewhere along the way, it became my sitcom home-base bar—the one I point to and say, “Remember that?” It’s cute: small enough to feel close-knit, but not so small that you can’t squeeze in. Hopefully it’ll be warm enough to use that excellent patio again soon. Until then, it’s still a great place to kick it. Catch a comedy show, listen to live music, host an event, or just sit and chat. It’s all here.

Have a fun weekend!

— Jen

Curtis Sliwa’s eyebrows unfurl for possibly the first time in his adult life. He offers one of his tight-lipped, almost mischievous smiles.

“Maybe regarding the beret.” He laughs, only a little. I can tell he thinks it was already self-indulgent to share even that much. “I did always have a thing for eccentric fashion. At least when I was a kid. Not so much when I got older.”

Sliwa gets a far-off look now as he stares down at the table we’re sitting at. He runs a thumb across his lower lip. I wonder, for a moment, if he’s trying not to cry. Maybe not a flood of tears, but a few, the kind that race down and get caught in the etched lines around a pair of eyes that have seen decades’ worth of life and change.

At 71 years old, few people have lived as full a life, or changed as much, as Curtis Sliwa. Few people have seen what’s under his beret, or know whether he ever washes it.

What we do know is that whether he’s standing guard on the subway or offering relief from the elements out on the street, Sliwa is always calm and collected. “I guess I am kind of unshakeable. I’m not someone who gets nervous easily. I got that from years of working with Abby, you know.”

Sliwa is referring, of course, to Abby Lee Miller.

Before Curtis Sliwa had a passion for helping New York, he had a penchant for dancing.

Curtis Sliwa was born Jojo Siwa in the 1990s or the 2000s or something. I couldn’t find the exact date. About two weeks after exiting his mother’s womb with a rockstar double knee slide, he began tap dancing at Abby Lee Miller’s dance studio.

I was able to reach out to Abby Lee for comment. “Let me explain something to you and try to get it through your thick head,” she began. “Jojo Curtis couldn’t fucking dance worth a fucking nickel, okay? Jojo Curtis’s mother was a fucking cunt, but she was one of a handful of moms who signed the waiver to be on the show starring me, my big ass, my loud mouth, and my famous studio. So I did what I could to help the kid. Help me help you help me, I used to say to them.”

Abby Lee looks at me, jutting her chin out, sizing me up and down. “Does that answer your question, moron? Go get me a diet soder.”

Only two years after enrolling at the Abby Lee Dance Studio, Jojo-Curtis Sliwa became one of Abby’s sauciest little barnacles.

“Growing up in Hawk-Tuah, Pennsylvania, right outside of Pittsburgh there aren’t a lot of opportunities. So I signed her up at Abby Lee Miller’s studio,” recalls Jojo Sliwa’s mama.

“What’s the top opportunity you feel your child gained by dancing there?” I ask.

“Oh. I wasn’t talking about opportunities for Jojo Curtis. I was talking about myself. I got a big check every week, a lot of the dads in our town asked me out on dates, and I made lifelong friends with the other dance moms I used to go out with every weekend. We’re all in AA now,” she says fondly.

“I kind of peaked early,” Sliwa says in earnest. I’m impressed by the bravery of his candor. “Here I was, famous for both my dancing and being on TLC. I was living good, when I wasn’t being called a dumb fuck by Abby. But, you know, everything runs its course. After that, my mom needed help paying the bills. Mostly her Chili’s and Applebee’s happy-hour bills. I took whatever jobs I could get. I did construction for a while.”

I asked Sliwa how he made the jump from child performer to construction site manager to potential mayor and Guardian Angels founder.

“Easy. I like pussies. Always have.”

It was unclear what pussies he was referring to, as he’s collected four wives and seventeen cats over the course of his life.

I asked whether he felt disappointed or surprised by the results of the mayoral election.

“It’s New Yawk that should be disappointed. I’m the only mayor—living, dead, or planning on running—who has actually visited the Bronx and ain’t afraid of da Bronx.” Sliwa strokes one of his pet cats as it walks across his screen. Now I’m more sure that when he earlier said pussies, he meant cats. “I go to all five boroughs. Sometimes I go to Jersey. I’m not afraid of nobody. People like Zahmdani because he’s transparent, you can see all over his hair. Maybe I should have let New York see my hair. I don’t know.”

“Speaking of, what’re your thoughts on Zohran Mamdani?” I ask.

Scratching the head of the wandering cat, he shrugs. “I went to his inaugural barbecue. The food was free. The music was good. He likes to dance. I used to dance. We have a lot in common that way. A lot of people don’t know he lets me live in the garden shed of Gracie Mansion. We get Taco Tuesdays together every Tuesday.”

Sliwa tells me to “watch this” and takes his cat’s two paws in his hands. He has it stand on his hind legs and makes it dance to “Heartbreak Hotel” by Elvis. I smile hollowly. My eye twitches, and think about dry swallowing some Benadryl.

“When I was doin’ my own dancin’ career,” says Curtis, “I felt like nobody ever understood the moves I was doing. People would make fun of me, but I learned that not everybody’s gonna see your vision. Maybe the people of New Yawk didn’t see my vision in this race. But that making fun of me as a kid, it really took a toll. It stuck with me. Zohran, he treats me with the utmost respect, but he sees the little girl in me, the one I used to be. For that reason, I’m just glad he’s not Andrew Cuomo.”

Cross posted with

An hour ago, I walked into a hole-in-the-wall salon in Brooklyn, asked a stylist who spoke only Turkish to chop half my hair off, and now I’m eating reheated Raising Cane’s chicken. I am truly justttttttt getting through life over here.

How are you all doing? Anyone else feel like this was a real what-the-fuck kind of week? Where did everyone go for Valentine’s Day? Write me back and tell me. I genuinely want to know.

A lot is happening over here at Tawk, including the planning of our very first public party, happening this September. I’ll share more details as things come together, but obviously, expect a grand time. We’d love for you to be there.

A friendly reminder: founding members of our Substack drink free all night at our inaugural event and receive all the merch we’re releasing this year. Paid subscribers, your first drink is on us.

We’re also still crowd-sourcing questions for our NYC sex party investigative piece. Email me with all the logistical, fun, and naughty things you’ve always wanted to know. I should clarify (before rumors spiral): our September party will not be a sex party (womp womp). But it will be held in a very sexy location. Subscribers get first access to tickets, so you’re in a good place if that’s you.

Hope everyone has a great week ahead. Email me if you want to say hi: tawkofnewyawk@gmail.com.

Cheers,
Stephanie
Founder & Editor, Tawk of New Yawk

One of the greatest thinkers of both our time and our publication, David Lanson, has been pondering how smartphones have changed the dynamic of how we wait for things in New York. Check out his entire piece here in his column, The Salmagundi.

“I felt how attention shaped public life in a dense city. Phones quietly changed that for me. New York used to feel like a place where unmediated time was unavoidable. Now it feels optional. I miss what we had. When I think about how screens change the way I experience waiting, boredom, and shared space, I cannot help but feel that it changes how New York works. I have the sense that a city like this depends on people being able to tolerate being present with strangers in public, and I notice that I am not as good at that as I used to be. The subway feels different to me. Public spaces feel quieter and more private. I see children in strollers with tablets. I watch adults anesthetize every pause with a screen, and I recognize myself in that too. This is not nostalgia and it is not alarmism. It is simply how it feels to notice that the way I fill downtime alters how I experience a place built on shared downtime. To me, New York is a city built on waiting in public with strangers, and when that waiting becomes private, I feel like something civic quietly disappears.”

Dan Marino has the opportunity to visit the Revolutionary Heroes exhibit at the American Irish Historical Society. It’s part of a series of exhibits they’ll be presenting as part of America at 250. Read more of the article here.

“Still, the title of AIHS’s year-long initiative, That the World May Know, feels apt. We may not need to “correct” Irish history, but there is immense value in fuller, more nuanced representation. Irish American history extends far beyond the Potato Famine and Manhattan’s abundance of Irish pubs.

As I walked through Revolutionary Heroes, the theme of rebellion began to feel larger than American identity alone. Americans are often characterized by revolutionary fervor, but that spirit wasn’t born here. The Irish had cultivated it for centuries under British rule and carried it with them into the American Revolution. America is a sum of its parts, and understanding where those parts come from helps clarify what the country is—and what it strives to be. The Irish were here before the United States existed, and they’ve been here ever since. This year-long exhibition series aims to showcase that continuity, and I hope other cultural and historical organizations take the opportunity during America’s 250th anniversary to do the same. The world may be a hot mess, but 250 years of the American “experiment” is still worth marking—even if right now it feels more aspirational than real.”

Alina Gatrell, our arts & culture writer, is truly everywhere all at once. Recently, she attended the NYC Caledonian Club’s Scottish Ball. Held in late January, it honors the legacy of Scottish poet, Robert Burns. Far from a stuffy and snobbish affair, it’s full of Scottish dancing, whiskey, and raucous laughter. I’m pissed and jealous that I missed it this year. Alina says it’s one of the most fun events she’s ever attended in NYC. Read more here!

“The music was live. The fiddler was fiddlin’. The bagpipes were involved (kept at a respectful distance, but still bone-rattling). The room grew louder, faster, warmer. People who arrived alone suddenly found themselves dancing with ten new partners. Couples split up and reunited without a second thought, sharing partners for the sake of a good dance.

I got my fair share of bonnie lass comments—flattering for exactly as long as I wanted them to be. When I was ready to move on, I simply did. The room was full of gentlemen and ladies ready to dance, laugh, flirt, fall a little bit in love, and then spin away just as quickly.”

Last, Dia Griffiths and Sarah Wadsley attended a preview of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts’ newest exhibit: Mystery and Wonder: A Legacy of Golden Age Magicians in New York City Sarah wrote a piece about Adelaide Herrmann, a 19th century woman who was one of NYC’s top magicians and one of the only women to catch bullets in her teeth live on stage. This was absolutely fascinating and I encourage you to read the entire piece here!

“Grieving but determined, Adelaide sought a way for the show to continue. After briefly calling in their nephew Leon, who quickly proved unable to fill Herrmann the Great’s shoes, Adelaide made the bold decision to go solo. She returned to vaudeville stages, reinvented herself as the Queen of Magic, and adopted the traditional male magician’s costume of a white blouse and black trousers. In doing so, she became the first female headliner in the history of magic. In 1897, just one month after Alexander’s death, she stood before a live audience at New York City’s Metropolitan Opera House and recreated her husband’s most dangerous illusion, the bullet catch. Facing a firing squad, she caught six specially marked bullets, making her the only woman magician known to have performed the trick at the time.”

I went to undergrad at Syracuse University. Syracuse University parties. The frat houses stretched across entire streets—looming and imposing, Victorian and Georgian and massive. One was a literal castle. Off-campus housing meant three-story homes that could hold sprawling friend groups of four or six or eight. The sports teams threw house parties. The theater majors threw house parties. The random club you joined freshman year out of boredom threw house parties.

I grew accustomed to popping into random homes, climbing rickety old staircases. I scoped out DIY concerts in attics, with a folding chair doubling as a bar in the corner. I spent hours playing drinking games in the living rooms of acquaintances. I collected photos of myself in strangers’ kitchens and danced on elevated surfaces at frat houses when the mood struck. I loved the bars off campus and went often—but the real lifeblood of Syracuse University, to me, was the house party.

Unfortunately for me, Undergrad Jen—the partier—had to retire. She ruled, but I’m an adult now. I pay rent. I work a regular degular job. I party like a normal person these days. Still, I love and adore a house party. New York City, however, presents unique challenges compared to Syracuse. Syracuse had space on its side. New Yorkers live in tiny apartments with flex walls, strange layouts, and neighbors who tell you to keep it down already. My going-out diet far outpaces my house-party diet, even with a few friends who love hosting regularly.

Despite all this, I think throwing house parties in New York is still a worthwhile endeavor. Yes, it’s the doing-stuff capital of the world. Sure, the apartments are smaller. Yeah, there are downsides. But the house party is a vital part of the nightlife ecosystem. You need to shoot the shit with someone vaguely connected to you. You need to save some money. Someone has to be the one to throw—and maybe it should be you.

Here’s how to do it:

1. Pack them in like sardines.
This is crucial. Guys, get over yourselves. Get over your creature comforts. Pack them in. Move furniture around. I threw a Halloween house party two Halloweens ago that really tested this principle. I have a railroad-style apartment with me-sized doorframes, but I invited a whole host of people and tried my luck. I shoved all my office furniture into my bedroom so the office became one large open space with appropriate decorations. I funneled groups through the kitchen and living room. People arrive in waves, and when the party crescendos, the squeeze feels fun and chaotic in the best way.

2. Befriend people with backyards or roofs.
Backyard spillage allows for airflow, cigarette smokers, and warm summer nights under the stars. I’m deeply jealous of roof-havers. I think my roof is technically accessible, but I haven’t tried scaling the rickety ladder yet. That said, backyard or roof havers will often let you borrow their space if you promise to do the rest. You curate the invites and handle cleanup; they get to be a guest in their own home.

3. Be a good host.
What better use for adult money than throwing adult house parties? My undergrad parties featured a dusty folding table, red Solo cups, and ping-pong balls. Now? We’ve got options. You don’t have to buy everything, but it’s nice to provide something—even if guests supplement. A cheap bottle of wine or tequila. Mixers. Easy snacks: a bowl of chips with premade dip, boxed brownies, cheese and crackers on that board you’ve never used, Trader Joe’s pastry puffs (a staple in my friend group). Introduce people who might mesh well. Try to matchmake. Everyone secretly wants the host to do the work for them. Why not you?

4. Be realistic with your expectations.
No, it’s not going to be a 200-person sprawling rager like the architecture students at Syracuse used to throw. (Seriously—Syracuse parties. The architecture students went hard.) Aim for a number that makes sense for your apartment’s square footage and roommate count. Maybe 30 people can fit comfortably. Thirty people can be a great house party. How often are you getting thirty people into a group chat to go to the bar on a Friday? Probably not very often.

Writing this reminded me that it’s been a while since I threw a proper house party in my Queens apartment. Maybe you’ll have to stay tuned.

BAR TO TRY THIS WEEKEND: Tomi Jazz

I’m playing fast and loose with the word bar here. Tomi Jazz is many things: a jazz bar, a restaurant, the maker of a fantastic plate of cod roe spaghetti, and an excellent weekend spot. This no-reservation place fills up fast, so get there early when it opens. You can go for drinks only and be perfectly satisfied—but the snacks are great, and who doesn’t like a snack with their jazz? I’m no jazz expert, but I’ve loved every visit. The spirit of the place rocks. Yes, it’s in Midtown (sorry). You can hop on the 6 train right after—don’t worry. It’s worth your time.

What are we doing for the Super Bowl? Personally, I am seeing how many wings I can eat before my body fully revolts. You do not have to be on my level, though. However you spend today, I hope you make time to do something that fills your cup, or beer mug.

No judgment if football isn’t your thing. New York has enough going on to cater to every interest, whether that’s rock climbing, Japanese jazz, watercolor painting, or sex parties.

Let’s pause on that last one.

One of our writers is working on a deep-dive investigative piece on a New York City sex party. Her friend is the organizer of one such event, and we are currently hammering out, no pun intended, the final details. If you are not sure what a sex party actually looks like, you are in very good company.

That is why we are opening the floor for questions. As a subscriber to Tawk of New Yawk After Dark, you will be able to submit any questions you have on the subject. All questions will be kept anonymous and handled with the strictest confidence. We cannot accept an unlimited number of submissions, so paid subscribers’ questions will receive priority.

In that same spirit, here is a look at the benefits of each subscription level on Substack:

Free subscribers
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Happy Sunday, and enjoy whatever kind of chaos you choose today.

Cheers,

Stephanie A.

Founder & Editor, Tawk of New Yawk

I’m a little jealous that I didn’t go to The Fire This Time Festival. But, our writer, Emile did. Audience participation and reaction are encouraged and it made for a really unique and fun time. Read more here.

“Much like Cezar advised, I leaned in and let myself become part of the theatrical community in the room. Audience members commented freely, reacting to characters’ choices and lines in no uncertain terms: “Oh, don’t do it!” laughter at corny jokes, shouted “Shut up!”s, full-bodied laughter. And make no mistake—I joined in. There is something electric about watching live theatre where the entire room reacts together, as if you’re all in the same living room, yelling at the TV, except everyone is invited.”

Quite honestly, Alina doesn’t care that Blackout Songs was critically acclaimed all over London. While the directing and acting were superb, the writing is hollow. If you’ve been seeing this play hyped up on social media, maybe read her review for a legit and sane counterpoint. Read more here.

And here’s the annoying part: it is well done. The acting is excellent—precise, grounded, and fearless. The direction is so controlled that thin writing can almost read as a choice. The design team pulls off something genuinely difficult: keeping a fractured timeline legible without sanding down the chaos that makes it a memory play in the first place. Even reviewers lukewarm on the script concede that it plays powerfully live. But the writing didn’t land—not because it’s “not for me,” but because it’s the same old story, and it doesn’t earn the time it asks for. It replays a well-worn dynamic and calls it depth because the subject matter is taboo. Yes, you could argue the play is self-aware—that it’s showing how addiction warps memory, how love becomes narrative, how both people rewrite the past to survive. I get that. My problem is that the show still funnels our sympathy in the most familiar direction.

In other theater news, our own Scott Brooks wrote about The Honey Trap in his Broadway Outsider column. Irish Rep consistently makes good theater, and they deserve more of our dollars, quite frankly. The Honey Trap does in fact mostly live up to its positive praise all over the internet. Read more here.

In The Honey Trap, playwright Leo McCann presents a moment during the British occupation of the streets of Belfast, first from the point of view of two young—dare we say innocent—British soldiers who are confused as to why the Irish are throwing bricks and dead cats at them when they feel they are there to help and protect them. (Do some of these ICE guys really believe they are just arresting bad guys? Maybe. Did they all play way too much Call of Duty? Definitely.) Even I, your resident irreverent, cannot joke about this, because for the first time in my life I am ready to take up arms (if I had any) if these assholes try that shit in my town.

Death of Classic makes high brow HOT. Jen, our nightlife and good times editor, attended their performance, Tiergarten. She was transported to the Weimar Republic in a haze of good wine, glitter, and of course, CABARET. Their events are always magnificent. Truly one of those “only in New York” things. Read more here.

As for the space: we entered through the alley at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church on Carroll Street. Certainly an unorthodox way to consume cabaret—but the simple space felt cozy and warm. Patrons sat at tables or sprawled onto benches around the room. Ousley told me he puts great thought into every step of the performance, from entrance to exit, and I felt it—from the moment he skirted the room personally pouring wine for the audience. Each table enjoyed curated charcuterie, and a makeshift bar at the back of the venue allowed ample time for libations before the performance. “It is all about the welcoming and generosity of this shared experience,” said Ousley.

We really love Lit Club NYC. Kelly Chervin creates her themed events each month with so much love, thoughtfulness, and coziness. Even just looking at the events offered is fun. Alina and I attended her Astrology Night event a few weeks ago hosted by herself and Ophira of the Astro Twins. Check out what Ophira, astrologer to Beyonce and Dua Lipa, has to say about 2026. To check out Kelly’s cool events click here. To read the entire feature, click here.

I assumed the event—Lit Club’s “Astro Twins: Forecasting Your Future”—would be a light night of giggling over sun signs and sipping cocktails. Instead, Ophira Edut offered perspective rather than prophecy. Astrology, she explained, reads cycles much the way a researcher reads historical trends. People and planets orbit on predictable schedules, and when the slower giants converge, history often pivots.

I just finished reading The School of Night by Norwegian writer, Karl Ove Knausgard. He’s somewhat of a controversial figure. His non-fiction book, My Struggle (yeah, he borrowed that title) is an expose on the benign, but nonetheless intimate details of his entire family and wife without their consent or knowledge. Some have called him a narcissist for that, and his wife left him. In this fictional book, he crafts a protagonist that actually is a narcissist, and likely a psychopath. Read my review here. Although, it does contain spoilers.

Kristian Hadeland is a Scandinavian transplant who moves to London at twenty to study photography in The School of Night, Karl Ove Knausgaard’s most unsettling novel. He is a narcissist, possibly a psychopath, and deeply offended by how everyone else exists in the world. He cannot tolerate criticism—except, inexplicably, from Hans, a tall, enigmatic Dutch man he befriends….The School of Night is so evocative it almost breaks the word. I can’t think of another novel that earns its title as fully. Knausgaard doesn’t place you in a scene the way a movie does; he makes you inhabit it. … To me, the difference between literature and fiction is nuance and subtlety. Literature is elegant, restrained, and well crafted. In that way, this psychological novel’s greatest strength is also its Achilles’ heel.

Speaking of new books this January, we sent Jen to attend a town hall discussion between Lena Dunham and Jenette McCurdy on the latter’s new fictional book, Half His Age. You might know McCurdy from her inaugural NON fiction book, I’m Glad My Mom is Dead. Read more here.

McCurdy revealed she had already been deep into another novel when the idea for Half His Age came to her during a solo trip to Japan. She immediately paused the earlier project and began working on this one instead. She told the audience that she writes for herself, not for an audience—by accessing her own feelings, particularly rage, the work resonates more honestly than if she were trying to engineer a reaction.

Last, Alina and I did some serious heels on the ground reporting at the annual Whitney Art Party a few weeks ago. I did not “drink too much” (I did.) See the looks from the evening and hear all of the best quotes from the night in her article here.

Then, while wandering through Calder’s circus and taking in the incredible wire works, someone tells us: “You know it all started when I was nine? I was a brilliant oil painter—making money and everything. But my parents thought I wouldn’t make friends, so they forced me into sports. That’s not cool. Let your kids do what they want. Now I have two horses, four chickens, a family, and I’m a pretty successful designer. They could’ve let me be—I would’ve ended up here anyway.”

Enter Death of Classical. Death of Classical presents classical music and opera in New York’s strange and surprising places—catacombs, crypts, churches—delighting audiences with new ways to imagine the genre. And enter the Prototype Festival: a festival committed to “surprising our audiences and confounding their expectations” while centering diverse voices. Together, the two co-presented Tiergarten, an underground cabaret delving into periods of societal madness. The show aims to be unexpected, using creative explorations of the past to speak to our current chaos. In this reviewer’s opinion, it succeeded.

Tiergarten created a true cabaret. It blended opera belting with jazz ballads, burlesque shimmying, shadowed puppetry, and lyrical dance. The audience wove through periods of history, beginning in Weimar Berlin and moving backward through time until landing at the story of Adam and Eve. A charismatic cast guided us through these worlds, led by the charming Kim David Smith. The show did not shy away from the realities of our moment—or mirrored moments of the past: sorrow, pain, and seemingly never-ending panic. Instead, it sought to explore them through art. And even if the room already agreed with its politics, art connects us in a distinct and necessary way.

“We’re coming in with the same heart, but being in the room is such a comfort and such an inspiration,” said Master of Ceremonies Kim David Smith. Alongside donating, protesting, and voting, he said, “building community is really one of those things in the face of despair… and [shows like Tiergarten] are also a joyous and lovely time.”

Writer and director Andrew Ousley became both historian and puzzle master for this piece. He jigsawed together historical “tipping points,” from the late-stage empires of Rome to the overwhelming patriotism of the American Revolution. The cabaret format allowed him to jump across time periods while maintaining a sense of timelessness in the human condition. “When you share the same kinds of stories,” he told me, “it allows us to look at the echoes across time periods. It reminds us that so much more unites us.”

As for the space: we entered through the alley at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church on Carroll Street. Certainly an unorthodox way to consume cabaret—but the simple space felt cozy and warm. Patrons sat at tables or sprawled onto benches around the room. Ousley told me he puts great thought into every step of the performance, from entrance to exit, and I felt it—from the moment he skirted the room personally pouring wine for the audience. Each table enjoyed curated charcuterie, and a makeshift bar at the back of the venue allowed ample time for libations before the performance. “It is all about the welcoming and generosity of this shared experience,” said Ousley.

So many cast members charmed me immediately. Of course, Kim David Smith stood out as emcee. I felt genuine warmth in the way Ousley and Smith spoke of each other’s talents and contributions, and that kinship translated clearly into Smith’s performance of Ousley’s work. Smith struck a balance between a colloquial, confident, jovial tone while skillfully shepherding us between performances. Cabaret, he told me, is his entire life—where “I excavate and discover myself, where I commune with the muse.” That grounding energy was essential to keeping the piece cohesive, and he delivered it in spades.

Among the rest of the strong cast, I was particularly struck by the rich vocals of Amara Granderson. Her performance of “Strange Fruit” pulled at my chest—eyes wide, the room hushed. Her impassioned delivery of “Were You There,” performed in front of a burlesque Jesus, lived up to the show’s promise of diverting expectations. Yet Tiergarten never felt interested in shock for shock’s sake. Instead, it sought to understand these moments and their complexities. We felt deep sorrow—but also humor and levity. “The camp and the winking-ness are important,” said Ousley, “but vulnerability is the most important part of cabaret and drag culture.”

The most emotional moment, for me, came near the end of the show and felt like true catharsis: Liana Zhen-A and Dylan Contreras performing a contemporary dance to Max Richter’s This Bitter Earth / On the Nature of Daylight. A perfect song choice for two phenomenal talents. Perhaps I am biased as someone who dances a bit herself—but it gave me chills, and you can’t fake that. As they swirled around the stage, I found myself grateful to be surrounded by other New Yorkers, watching live performance with rapt attention—no screens, just presence, just community. I felt lucky, a feeling that sometimes eludes me in our current climate.

Art right now demands to be political. This moment demands all of us be political. It can be difficult to know whether joy and levity accomplish anything—or whether they are simply a break from the madness. But a break is necessary, too. Tiergarten made that break feel meaningful, allowing it to speak directly to what we’re all living through. Andrew Ousley told me this: “If anything will save us, it’s the vulnerability of allowing ourselves to love and be loved.” If we keep making art, if we keep confronting our collectiveness, if we keep examining the echoes of our shared human condition—maybe we’ll be saved from today, too.

You can find out more about Death of Classical here.

BAR TO TRY THIS WEEKEND: Hart Bar

Back to Bushwick we go for this week’s recommendation. I didn’t think I liked Bushwick this much—but it keeps popping up in my life. Whoops. Hart Bar oozes cool. The space is cloaked in purples, pinks, and reds. A small window in the back doles out fries and other late-night necessities. Bargoers boogie on a dance floor small enough to feel exclusive, but big enough to stay fun. Some disappear downstairs for live music—or, on quieter nights, to talk in a more secluded space. A covered, spacious patio filled with seating houses those of us who love to debrief our friends for hours in a lively setting. Conveniently located near plenty of other Bushwick happenings, it’s worth making a stop the next time you’re in the area. As always, say hi if you see me.

Have a good weekend!

— Jen

Photo Cred: Kevin Condon for Death of Classical

Hart Bar

It is the story of the time a wooden goose figurine—lovingly adopted by me and my friends, was stolen right from under our noses in the cold, dead of night.

My friends and I adopted Groose (Group Goose… Groose… get it?) in August 2025. He’s a young fella with a magnetic beak and an Instagram account where we document his adventures. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is OUT, and Sisterhood of the Adopted Goose is IN. We pass him between us like divorced parents sharing custody. He comes to parties and events. He takes a mean picture.
(Side note: I highly recommend committing harder to bits with your friends. Makes you feel more connected. Why hang out normally when you could hang out and also include a fake goose?)

He’s endured chipped paint. He’s lost both legs, which we lovingly “operated” on with hot glue. Once, his beak fell off. We hide him in the back of photos like a Where’s Waldo character. We tag him on Instagram like he’s a real friend. He came to my cousin’s Hanukkah brunch. He’s just that kind of fella.

I kicked off this column talking about the Everyone We Know Party, a biannual event my friends and I throw where we send invitations to literally everyone we know. Groose attended the latest edition, of course. He’s an integral part of the group now.

The Everyone We Know Party includes a points system (again, we love a bit): meet a host, get a wristband. Collect all the wristbands, earn a medal. Easy. We sent out a glamorous photo of Groose rocking his glowstick wristbands and medal to demonstrate how the game works.

Groose showed up, partied hard as usual, and oversaw the festivities from the booth where we dumped our bags and jackets. Since we rent out a bar for these things, everyone there is either a friend or a friend-of-a-friend. But when the party ended… Groose was nowhere to be found.

We, of course, spiraled into a deep panic. Who the hell stole Groose?! We fired off a desperate text blast from the Taco Bell across the street, pleading for his safe return. We sent sorrowful messages in the group chat about how much we missed our guy. Hope felt lost… until my friend Taylor got a mysterious DM.

The account name: @gooseontheloose092025.
The message: someone had Groose and wanted Taylor’s address to return him.

Internet safety may be hanging by a precarious thread, but even the most lackadaisical user wouldn’t hand over their home address to an anonymous rando behind a burner account. We begged the mystery goose-napper to reveal themselves. We promised we wouldn’t be mad. (And we really wouldn’t have been! They said they were embarrassed—hence the anonymity. But honestly, a simple “my bad, guys” text would’ve done the job.) No dice. So Taylor gave them her office address instead.

Groose was delivered—footless—to Taylor’s office with a ransom note. I’m not kidding. A ransom note. The person admitted they thought Groose belonged to the bar and pocketed him accordingly. Which begs the question: why are you stealing random trinkets from a bar? In the months since, I’ve polled many people, and apparently folks really do steal from bars. Personally, that feels like a terrible thing to do to independent businesses, but I guess if someone is really into bespoke salt shakers, they can’t help themselves.

Anyway, Groose came home, ransom note in hand, and immediately returned to his lifestyle of group hangs and parties. We missed him dearly. Now, we keep him close—in a purse or a pocket whenever possible. We can’t let him drift too far, lest he be snatched again in the cold, dead of night.

And that’s the story of how partying turned into kidnapping. Stay safe out there.

BAR TO TRY THIS WEEKEND: Bibi Wine Bar

I freaking love Bibi. I love it. It holds a special, first-love kind of place in my heart. It’s that rare spot I started going to years ago and still love exactly the same way.

Happy hour lasts until EIGHT, which, to me, is critical. Some happy hour spots are for coworkers. You go because it’s near the office. Bibi Wine Bar is for your pals. You go to gossip. Their happy hour includes both drinks and food. Again: critical. Perfect for settling in.

The inside screams cozy, and it’s a fabulous date-night spot. If you’re going with friends, you’re steps away from East Village happenings, or you can hop on the nearby L train and head into Brooklyn. Totally worth the trip, in my opinion.

I’m personally sending you a new piece from this month’s BROADWAY OUTSIDER column. As in, we just published it today. If you didn’t know, it’s written by our own beloved Scott Brooks. I’m so excited about this one, and couldn’t wait until Sunday to drop you a link. So, here it is hot off the press. You can also read it on our home site. Enjoy.

— Stephanie

Things have been looking a little bleak on my beloved 44th Street in Times Square this year, home to no less than seven Broadway theatres in a two-block stretch. And I’m not just talking about The Queen of Versailles. This past winter, we have seen lots of changes on this street in the heart of little old New York that runs into Times Square.

ABC News pulled out of its massive corner studios. No more Good Morning America. The news ticker and jumbotron where I stood and watched 9/11 unfold have gone dark.

Then, in 2024, the 70-year-old Irish dive, Smith’s, quietly gave up the ghost. Its timeless neon wraparound sign, gone. It was a grand old man bar, complete with a steam table stocked with funky corned beef and cabbage that remained largely untouched and gave the place an uncommon smell. There was one old guy with a long white beard who would sit at the end, his pack of Marlboro Reds next to a bottle of Bud, sound asleep. They called him the leprechaun. In recent years, they cleaned it up, made it a little more friendly to the lunch, family, and theatregoing crowd, but I couldn’t stay away; only now I could bring my kid and point to where the leprechaun used to sit.

Then we learned that Jimmy’s Corner is fighting for its life after more than fifty years. A beloved dive on the east side of 44th in a building that looks like it is about to fall over into the empty lot next door. The story is always the same: the landlord, the Durst Organization, is trying to terminate the lease since Jimmy died of Covid in 2020. Man, fuck those guys.

Mention Jimmy’s Corner to anyone who knows, and they will smile and say “Jimmy’s…” as if remembering that one friend who almost got himself arrested on spring break that time. “Jimmy always hooked us up,” said one former MTV employee. “He always made room for us when we would roll in with a large party and send over shots. So many shots. It should be landmarked.” “The night I got fired from Carmine’s I went to Jimmy’s and he hired me on the spot,” a friend told me. Everyone knew Jimmy, and even if you didn’t know him you paid your respects with a nod and a “Hey Jimmy.” You could usually find him on a stool next to the jukebox watching over things, his petite wife flitting around nearby. My very first visit there I ordered a margarita (that tells you how young I was). It cost four dollars and had a cherry in it. The vibe has gone from divey to dodgy to dangerous-looking, or maybe I’m losing my edge, who knows.

Courtesy: Getty

And then, this Christmas, it was announced that Café Un Deux Trois, where I personally have worked part-time behind the bar for the past few years, was closing its doors forever after forty-eight years, and I stood back and watched the whole thing.

Café Un Deux Trois has been nothing short of beloved in the theatre community. The storied mainstay was a hangout for a Who’s Who of Broadway as well as stagehands, producers, directors, and plenty of tourists. I had been there as a guest more times than I could count over the years, so I was surprised when I started working there to see how it was flying by the seat of its pants and gravely in need of a coat of paint and some new blood; the old blood being the owners – Gerard and George, the two men now in their eighties who had the crazy idea to open a French bistro in the middle of the garbage-strewn Times Square of the seventies.

Let’s start with them, as the buck stops with them. Gerard looks like Salvador Dalí if he were made of ice cream and had begun to melt. A rageaholic with several lawsuits in his past and whose directionless fury would be funny if he couldn’t fire everyone in the room should he wish to. He reminded me a lot of Trump in that way. And if Gerard was Trump, then his partner George was surely our Biden. The brains of the business; a gentle giant, tall and shambling, a guy who perhaps should have passed the reins on years ago and whose reluctance to do so came at a heavy price.

But we are not here to pig-pile on the gentlemen who ran one of the most famous Broadway hangouts ever. No one wants to hear it anyway. As these things happen, right before Christmas, some of us were told in strictest confidence by others who were told in the very strictest of confidence that we would be closing on January fourth. Later that same night Gerard (see above), after a few grappas, told absolutely everyone who worked there and started crying and hugging the busboys.

Scott Brooks/Tawk of New Yawk

So the word was out and the countdown had begun. I had expected more of a “last week of senior year” energy amongst the staff. We all knew it was all but over for the old 1, 2, 3 – most of us thought March/April at the latest. Some of these guys had been there so long, I don’t know how they are going to function at other restaurants where they will likely be held to different standards. Some of them seem too old to start over again – the rest of us had already planned for this and had our chutes packed.

Then one dinner companion of Gerard’s, who we called Freddy Freeloader because he only came in when Gerard was in town and he needed a free meal and who considers himself something of a journalist, decided to leak a release to the NY Post, and then the floodgates opened. My friend and NY Post theatre critic Johnny Oleksinski showed up wanting to write an article about the place closing and ended up seated at Gerard’s notorious table while he was regaled with tales of old, pausing only to blow up at a waiter about something, shouting so loudly that the entire dining room went silent, and I thought, please put this in the article, but he took the high road and I respect it. You can read it here.

Once word had really gotten out and people were being tagged on social media with other articles, like this very nice interview with George and his kids, virtually everyone who had ever been there had to come in one last time to look around. It became “Christmas busy” all over again during what is usually a quiet week between Christmas and January, except people were quitting and those who remained were pretty drunk for most of their shifts, but hey, glass houses. The other problem was as we were planning on closing, we had stopped ordering, ya know, goods. One night right before New Year’s, half the menu was 86’d (steak, burgers, mussels, even fries for fuck’s sake), and we were out of most all wine and booze. I was there when they had to advise George, “Hey, we need to order some shit or just close tonight.”

Scott Brooks/Tawk of New Yawk

And so it went. The place was packed all day and all night with people forcing the staff to have some version of the same conversation over and over. “Oh my God I can’t believe it. I love this place. Where am I going to go? Are you going to be okay? Isn’t there something anyone can do? We should all pitch in and buy it!”

My real regulars stepped up, some of them changing their weekend plans to come in and hang out all weekend. I went in on the very last night even though it was my night off, just to say goodbye. The room was full of people I had gotten to know for years, who I called friends. Some were crying. I am in many selfies. Café Un Deux Trois is the reason I’m a playwright again; I made so many industry connections I took it as a sign and I was right, it’s who I’ve always been. It’s how I’ve seen countless shows and how I started the Broadway Outsider column. And any snark that is detectable in my tone here is because it didn’t necessarily have to end this way, this soon. But that’s life, that’s New York, and any place is ultimately the people, not the walls or the booze or the cheese plates, and many of those fine people will be part of my life moving forward.

It was time for me to move on anyway, but I wish I was moving on knowing that the Kronenbourg was still flowing in one of the most special places in all of New York.

— Scott Brooks

Broadway Outsider

Tawk of New Yawk

How was the weekend? I spent Saturday celebrating my 35th birthday in the greatest city in the world, and I feel so lucky to have done so. My body, however, does not agree. I’m going on hour twelve of nursing a hangover from last night. When I blew out my candles at dinner, I wished for all the frivolous things: world peace, enduring love, happiness for everyone around me. I should’ve wished for a hangover that doesn’t make me feel like I need to be hooked up to life support.

Originally, I planned a Sinatra-themed night, red-sauce dinner followed by live music at a jazz club. Only later did I find out that the Carnegie Club hosts Sinatra Saturdays, where Steven Maglio and an 11-piece orchestra perform Sinatra hits in full tuxedo glamour.

After some hemming and hawing, I finally realized what felt “off” about the whole plan. I like the idea of being a jazz person. I am not, in any universe, an actual jazz person. I love Billie Holiday, Nina Simone, and Ella Fitzgerald, but the tender feelings stops there. I’m just not a wordless boom-tiss-sultry-cymbals type of gal.

What I am is a blues girl. But does New York City have a blues club? After a quick Google search…

Naturally. Of course we fucking do. Terra Blues, established in 1990. The band playing was Sally Baby’s Silver Dollars, a group from New Orleans (my second-favorite city). Being a lover of The Big Easy and a lover of themes in equal measure, I made reservations at a New Orleans–inspired restaurant nearby, Holywater. In fact, there are three Cajun/Creole restaurants in that area alone.

New York City has everything. New York City has everyone.

Normally, birthdays make me weirdly sad. This year, not so much. I feel proud. I’ve poured six years into Tawk of New Yawk. Late nights, rewrites, breakdowns, breakthroughs, questioning the vision, and more reinventions than Cher. I kept going when it felt small, and I kept going when it felt impossible. I believed in it when ten people were reading, and I believe in it even more now. If the last six years have taught me anything, it’s that good things grow when you refuse to quit.

No recommended reads for this week. I’m trying to get my ass in gear regarding editing the team’s recent articles. But their new articles are GOOD, so stay tuned!

Cheers,

Stephanie

Founder & Editor

Nowadays, though, I tamp down the biggest facets of theater-kid energy left in me. I’ve channeled my overeager, attention-hungry side into heels dance classes and sharing poetry in intimate writing groups.

Despite this, I am still very charmed by professional improv. I can’t help it, okay? It is so fun! They just make it up off the top of their heads! Seamlessly! So creative! So silly!

So when I saw a video from Shitzprobe on my TikTok feed, I smiled at the idea. Shitzprobe takes Broadway stars who have not done improv and inserts them into their cast of exceptional improv performers. They use audience suggestions for a concept and create a one-night-only musical: singing, dancing, and a plot, all off the top of their heads. I caught a performance, and I had an excellent time.

I grabbed my best friend Emily (a staple of the column), and we met to see a show on a cold December Monday. We ordered a round and French fries and settled in for the show. Our performance differed a smidge from the usual. Rather than a traditional Broadway performer, it featured The Stuppets, a puppet collective from Stagetime NYC, as the special guests. The charismatic cast asked us for suggestions for the title of a never-performed musical. Naturally, someone suggested “Get Your Hand Out of My Butt!”, and the musical got going.

The actors managed to make that title anti-capitalist (slay) by placing us in an office and making the “hand in the butt” the hand of The Man. They created impeccable cast chemistry immediately. Between jokes about being in love with puppets, love triangles, and wordplay, we were also treated to truly excellent vocals. My extremely brief foray into improv educated me on how hard of a medium it is, and it blows my mind that these performers can do that in both spoken and song form. They effortlessly conceptualized jokes and delivered them in perfect harmony. As an audience member, you witness such talented performers and glean the bonus excitement of knowing this is completely unique to your crowd only.

We ordered a chocolate bread pudding for act two and laughed our asses off. Honestly, I can’t recommend Shitzprobe enough. For the quality of performance you get, the tickets are reasonably priced. Right now, they’re making stuff up at Asylum NYC on Mondays. You can check more out here.

It’s an awesome place to start a night—a few drinks and laughs are the perfect teaser for more shenanigans. Or, if you’d rather, you can end your night with one of their performances afterward and feel like you’ve had a classic NYC night seeing some of the best creatives around. World-class improv comedy on a random Monday night. NYC has that on offer, and you should be taking advantage of it. And hey, I think I’m being too hard on myself. I think maybe we need more theater-kid energy in 2026.

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BAR RECOMMENDATION TO CHECK OUT THIS WEEKEND: Dear Irving Gramercy

A few years ago, I was tasked with finding a good bar to take an out-of-town senior coworker in the Gramercy-adjacent area. I scrounged up Dear Irving Gramercy and it easily impressed the crowd. Generally, I lean more toward a dive-bar kind of vibe if I’m not going out dancing. But sometimes, you need a nicer atmosphere: an out-of-towner, a date, a bougie friend who won’t set foot in your dive bars. You should take them to Dear Irving Gramercy.

The key to this establishment is the back room. Soft velvet couches, plenty of seating. Old-school floral details. A chandelier. A Renaissance-style painted ceiling and chandelier. Aim for this room if you find yourself here. Select one of the many cocktails and maybe order an appetizer. Impress the person you’re trying to impress. And have a great night!

Writing to you from Mamdani’s New York. It seems kind of the same as it was like a week ago. Nobody has forced me to read the Communist Manifesto…YET. But, I’ll keep you all posted. Our politics columnist, David, happened to write a fabulous piece on Mamdani’s win. I’m linking it here.

I spent a lot of the past two weeks away from New York City. Big Christmas loves to romanticize the holiday season here. But honestly? The idealized film version of NYC far surpasses actually being in the hellhole that is Oscar Wilde in December. Tourists have pushed us to our brink. Have you ever seen a toddler just sitting on their parent, and pulling their hair while the parent just sits there in a disassociative daze? Last month our city was the parent, and the tourists were that toddler. Normally, I’m inundated with requests to attend holiday season events. It felt like businesses and entertainment venues quietly gave up in 2025. I can’t blame anyone. It was a weird year.

Just before our break, a few of us at Tawk went to dinner to close out the year. After lots of back and forth we wound up at Pasta Louise in Park Slope. There is SO much drama and controversy surrounding that place. Here’s a Reddit thread if you weren’t aware. But, I really can’t complain about the place. Our server seemed one pubic hair away from a mental breakdown. BUT, my pasta was bomb. Being surrounded by such brilliant, thoughtful, and funny creatives gave me all the feels. I feel lucky to be leading this team. We have so much in store for you all in 2026, so keep in touch.

Story Recs.

In the craziness of Christmas, you may have missed some of the cool stories we published. Here’s some of those:

Dan Marino, one of our food and bev writers, sat down with the proprietors of Central Park Tavern. The restaurant is as much film set as it is tavern.

Talking with Tom felt like talking to a production designer on a film set. Their job is all about detail. You might not consciously notice the clock in the background of a period film or the technology in a sci-fi show, but you feel it. That’s what allows a movie to transport you—to make you believe the characters really are in a Victorian mansion or millions of light-years away.

That’s exactly how this felt. Tom showed me around the space, pointing out thoughtful choices like early 20th-century sports memorabilia and the decision to move the beer taps to the back wall instead of the bar top, creating a more historically accurate tavern aesthetic. That same care shows up in the food. From blending cheeses specifically for the mozzarella sticks to shipping in authentic Buffalo hot sauce for Bills games, every choice is intentional.

Most of these details, we’ll probably never consciously register—but they’re what make Central Park Tavern stand out. Some places put on a facade, a cheap imitation of something else. Others capture something real. Central Park Tavern belongs firmly in the latter category, successfully reviving a sense of place—and a time—we thought was gone.

Soraya Omtzigt, our dance and movement contributor, went to go see the NutWAACKer at the Guggenheim. Admittedly, I had no knowledge nor interest in WAACKing before this article. After reading it, I’m really jealous that I didn’t go. It seems like one of those “had to be there” NYC experiences, and sadly I wasn’t.

With Lockerooo’s background in musical theatre, combined with over 21 years dedicated to street dance styles—particularly waacking—The NutWAACKer didn’t just feel like a fun, standalone Christmas musical. It felt like a layered, deeply intentional portrait of New York City. The Mouse King became the Rat King. The Sugar Plum Fairy transformed into Sugar Plum Daddy. Clara evolved into Clara/Clarence. The Snow Queen became the Pigeon Queen. Uncle Drosselmeyer reemerged as his unhoused counterpart. The entire story unfolded in Central Park.

Irish Rep is one of my personal favorite theaters. It’s a Wonderful Life is one of the greatest holiday films ever made. Our team was stoked when the former decided to take on a live radio play version of the latter. Sarah Wadsley, one of our theater contributors, wrote about that experience here.

The appeal of being part of the “live studio audience” is getting to experience the behind-the-scenes tricks of the trade. While the stage was cleverly designed to fit the space and created a realistic sound booth, and while I enjoyed the period costumes, the “radio play” aspect of the show fell flat. Rather than actors performing for the mic, the characters mostly played toward each other as in a traditional play. Although they took turns creating sound effects—footsteps on gravel, the spin of a needle on a phonograph, clinking glasses at a bar, for example—most of the Foley art was concealed upstage. When a production is advertised as a radio play, those imaginative and interesting effects should be at the forefront. It’s a great concept, and a unique point of difference from other versions of this story, so I wish they had committed more fully to the idea.

Cheers to 2026, New York. I’m cautiously optimistic about this year. Admittedly, I’m a little nervous that nothing could possibly top the incredible year that we saw for Tawk of New Yawk in 2025. I hope that I’m wrong. All the way up!

Love,

Stephanie

Founder & Editor-In-Chief

Tawk of New Yawk

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