The ball drops on MePa

Though some venues haven’t even begun selling tickets yet, the Meatpacking District’s hottest party this New Year's Eve looks to be STK. VIP tickets ranging from $235 to $205 are already sold out. General admission tickets are still available at $125, which includes a standing space, five-hour premium open bar, butler-passed hors d'oeuvres, midnight champagne toast, and party favors. VIP ticket holders receive all the benefits of a general admission ticket, with the added prestige of being seated at a table with bottle service and a cute waitress.

ONE looks to be another hot spot, with all their platinum VIP tickets ($225) already sold out. Benefits of this ticket are comparable to STK’s, as is their general admission tickets ($115 per stub) which are still up for grabs.

Level V will open their door for $95, and provide a five-hour premium open bar, hors d’oeuvres, and a midnight champagne toast. Purchase the princess treatment for $215, which will get you a table, three bottles of vodka and two of champagne (no word on what brand champagne).

Another party listed at this time is the Hotel Gansevoort’s rooftop bash, which last year was the destination for Paris Hilton. General admission tickets are $175 and include a six-hour open bar, catered delicacies by downstairs restaurant Ono, and multiple spaces with their own DJs. VIP tables for four say “F*ck the recession!” and start at $1500. This type of money will get you a seat, and one bottle of vodka and champagne.

Welcome to New York.

Local Flavor

The tender chicken cutlets crackle on the grill in honey-colored cream sauce. “Very good. Try it!” The chef exclaims to a woman standing by, and hands her a fork skewered with a dripping piece of chicken. The woman ventures a taste, nods, then orders a fajita. The chef wraps the chicken in thick flour, sprinkles it with spices, and hands his creation over with a pleased smile.

“The secret is when you mix the chicken with the sauce,” the chef tells me. “You mix it with the chicken, that’s why the chicken is so good. I make rice too, you want to taste it? Some salad with it?”

Alfred Abdelsayed is a street vendor on the northwest corner of West 16^th Street and Ninth Avenue in Manhattan’s bustling Meatpacking District. At first glance, Abdelsayed is the typical faceless Middle Eastern immigrant struggling to make a living in New York, but look again. Being an underprivileged foreigner, his existence on that corner is ignored and even disdained when he is simply a father far away from home, striving for more than what life gave him.

Abdelsayed sits in a metal folding chair next to his battered cart, wearing a slightly soiled, oversize sweatshirt and pants. The black stubble on his chin is fading to gray, betraying his 53 years. On occasion he gets up and shuffles over to the grill, picks up a spatula and starts pounding its sharp end into the sizzling chicken.

“I like the job. Any job that I start, I like the work. You have to love it—I’m cooking!” he says with a laugh.

Abdelsayed was an accountant at American Express in his origin city of Cairo, Egypt. As we talk about Egypt, he becomes visibly excited, wondering if I’ve ever been. I tell him no, but I want to see the pyramids, sail down the Nile one day.

“I’ve been to [the pyramids]. That’s my country—I have to visit them! My country is 4,000 years old. Have you heard of King Tut?” he says.

In 1994, Abdelsayed came to America with his young son, Pady, and they settled in Jersey City. In their new home, he worked as a cab driver and watched his son become an American. Pride wells up in his voice when he speaks about Pady.

“He’s bigger than you. He’s 26. He finished college this year. He came here when he was a baby. He went to school here, and I’m supporting him. I wish I had a daughter like you,” he says.

A few months ago, Abdelsayed’s license as a cab driver was suspended, so he became a street vendor to make ends meet. Weekends he works the cart on West 16^th Street, then Chambers Street during the week.

“I’m new, very new [to street vending]. Like 6 or 7 months. I live in Jersey City—it’s not far. I take the train. The guy who owns this [cart], he works the nights and I take over for him so he can go home. I work from to 8 to 7, depending. On a slow day, like today, I make $60,” he explains.

Then a pause.

“It’s hard to be in America, especially New York,” he says.

Throughout our interview, Abdelsayed offers me all the free food I can eat, as well as his son’s phone number. At one point he asks me to turn off the tape recorder, saying, “We are just talking now, as two people.”

I ask him what he hopes for the future, and he expresses his desire to return to his country, but says his son will stay here, as he is a genuine American.

Taking my leave, Abdelsayed insists that I come visit him again next weekend. I walk away smiling, surprised that I have never seen this cart in an area I’ve been frequenting for years, until now.

There is one person listening to Alfred Abdelsayed. His name is Sean Basinski, founder and director of the Street Vendor Project, a branch of Urban Justice. The organization fights for street vendors’ issues like attaining permits, opening streets for vending, reducing fines, and educating the police about the difficulties vendors face.

Basinski’s story is a surprising one. Fresh out of the Ivy League, Basinski cashed in on Wall Street during the booming nineties, then traveled the world. When he returned to New York, he decided “on a lark” to try operating a street-side burrito cart. It was a decision that turned out to define his life. Witnessing first hand the injustices of the struggling business owner, Basinski took action after attending law school at Georgetown. He established the Street Vendor Project in 2001, and today is the voice of the 10,000 people who sell merchandise on the streets of NYC.

Our very own French Revolution

What was once the slaughterhouse of New York is now the epitome of glamour, thanks to the French restaurant Pastis.

Twenty years ago, blood ran through the cobblestone streets of the Meatpacking District. Barrels of bones and chunks of fat attracted flies on the sidewalks. Men dressed as woman put a price on their own flesh, and sold it in the shadows of dumpsters. In warehouses, carcasses slowly spun on metal hooks.

Today, with only 25 meatpacking warehouses remaining, most of the carcasses are gone. X-rated gay sex scene clubs like Hellfire and Manhole of the ‘70s have been replaced by banker bungalows that charge thousands for bottle service. The rubber boots of butchers have been replaced with Christian Louboutin heels, all because of restaurant on Ninth Ave and Little West 12^th Street.

Pastis was constructed as a 19^th -century Parisian café, with beaten wooden tables, rickety ceiling fans, mosaic flooring, and tarnished mirrors flown in from Europe. The menu features mouthfuls like Cotes D’Agneau au Coco, Moules Frites au Pernod, and Tripes Gratinees. Brunch is especially popular as the fashion elite, celebrities, and jet-set socialites fight for an open air table.

In the 1930s, the Meatpacking District became a central wholesale meat marketer, served by the newly constructed Highline. By the early 1970s, 100 meatpacking operators dominated its streets. The warehouses were constructed of low-lying metal sheets, which gave the area a distinct character. When Florent, a French diner, opened in 1985 on Gansevoort Street, the face of the area began to change.

In 1999, Keith McNally, of SoHo’s celebrated Balthazar, converted a warehouse overlooking Gansevoort Plaza into Pastis. His vision was to depart from the gossip scene and provide local residents with good food at reasonable prices. As to why he chose the Meatpacking District, McNally explained to the New York Times in 2001, ''One of the best things about the neighborhood is not the buildings, it's the vast amount of sky.”

The opening of Pastis was complimented by the opening of haute retailer Jeffrey down the street. In 2003, the members-only SoHo House opened on 13^th Street and Ninth Ave. A year later, Diane von Furstenberg established her flagship store on West 14^th Street, and Hotel Gansevoort opened across from Pastis.

Three weeks ago, international glitterati descended on the Meatpacking District for Pastis. Under the influence of flashbulbs and champagne, guests ranging from royalty to Victoria’s Secret supermodels opened Fashion Week with a bang in what is now called New York’s hottest neighborhood.

The only bloody liquid in the Meatpacking District one will see today is in long-stemmed glasses from the vineyards of Burgundy, underneath Pastis’ faded awnings.

Welcome to the neighborhood!

The Gansevoort Market Historic District, or the Meatpacking District, is located on the western side of Manhattan, encompassed by West 14^th Street, Gansevoort Street, Ninth Avenue and West Street. What was once called the “underbelly of Greenwich Village” is now being heralded as “New York’s hottest neighborhood,” with world-class restaurants, shopping, hotels, and lounges that have made the area a focal point for art, fashion, food, and design.

The neighborhood had far from a fashionable start. In 1884, New York named two acres of farmland after the Revolutionary War hero General Peter Gansevoort. By the 1930s, the area had become a wholesale meat market supplied by more than 200 slaughterhouses. By the early 1970s, the number of slaughterhouses dwindled, replaced by clubs known for an X-rated gay sex scene. By day, trucks and butchers with bloody white coats dominated the streets, and by night transsexual prostitutes sold their own brand of meat.

But in New York, nothing stays the same, and in 1985 a French diner named Florent opened the doors of change on Gansevoort Street. In 1999, restaurateur Keith McNally opened the Parisian bistro Pastis on the corner of Little West 12^th Street and Ninth Avenue. Soon, the district’s warehouses were converted into clubs with $1,000 table minimums and boutiques with shoes that fashionistas would kill for.

Open any gossip rag and you will no doubt find Lindsay or Britney up to their usual panty-less antics at any one of these MePa nightlife notables: Cielo, Hotel Gansevoort, APT, Lotus, Tenjune, and Kiss & Fly. From brunch through dessert, the place to be seen (not) eating is Nero, Ono, Pastis, STK, Spice Market, Buddha Bar, and the private club Soho House. If your wallet feels too heavy, take a load off at local boutiques like Alexander McQueen, Carlos Miele, Jeffrey, Christian Louboutin, Stella McCartney, and Diane von Furstenberg.

Being such an attractive neighborhood, people want to know when and where they can move in, but MePa is zoned primarily as an industrial and commercial area. Residency is generally restricted to the fringes of the area, like Hudson and Horatio Streets. Apartments for rent and sale range among the highest figures in New York. Expect a studio apartment to average $2,500 a month, but also be prepared for all your friends asking when they can move in.

Ask them about the red or blue dress, not the political party

Manhattan’s red-hot Meatpacking District, just below West 14^th Street, is known for its daring innovation in design, fashion and art, but there is one subject that remains taboo: politics.

Tuesday’s presidential election has stirred such intense emotions that most retail employees in the district are reluctant to comment, afraid that taking sides will deter paying customers.

When a sales associate at Scoop NYC was asked who she was voting for, she conceded, “Obama. Definitely. But please don’t use my name. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

Managers at upscale boutiques like Jeffrey, Scoop, Rubin Chapelle and Ten Thousand Things are quick to say business is fine and has not been affected by the current economic crisis, but when it comes to red or blue, their tongues are tied.

It was in the few affordable boutiques of MePa that associates admitted business could be better, and a change in economic policy is needed.

“Business has been hard,” says Seiko Makino of Destination, a fashion boutique on Little West 12^th Street, “I’m hoping the election will put more confidence in the economy. And yes, I’m voting for Obama.”

At Trina Turk, a fashion boutique on Gansevoort Street, feelings are the same. A typical Sunday yields $6,000, but as of 2 p.m., the store was only at $600.

“We would like business to be better, and to reach our goals,” says Julie Blackwell. “I don’t think any victory [on Tuesday] will impact us. Not until two years or so. But it can’t get any worse than now. Whoever gets elected will be an improvement.”

But then walk into shoe boutique Iris on Washington Street, which features designers like Marc Jacobs and John Galliano who’ve built empires on expressing themselves, and employees will say firmly, “We can’t comment on politics.”

A part of all New York: WTC

You’ve seen the images so many times that you’re sick of it all. Twisted metal jutting out of smoking rubble, people’s faces disfigured with horror, dusty firemen raising American flags, tearful eagles (?!), twin towers framed by a purple sunrise—this is 9/11 as you know it. Many of us were in middle school or beginning high school when we saw those two planes crash into the World Trade Center towers on TV. The footage probably cut into a commercial for Tom Cruise’s latest action movie where whole cities were being blown up by bad guys, and suddenly the screen flashes to two enormous towers emitting bulbous, black smoke, when a grave Tom Brokaw comes on—not Tom Cruise—and announces that the U.S. has been attacked. Was this reality? For me, it was Hollywood’s latest production.

Being cloistered away in central Massachusetts, and never having been to New York, I felt no particular connection to the tragedy. The images of destruction and anguish were no different from those coming out of the Middle East. I was watching death on television, but I had seen it so many times before that the only thing out of the ordinary was the program’s lack of advertisements. I remember being most affected by seeing my Croatian French teacher crying that afternoon, and wondering why this tragedy was any different from those going on every day around the world.

It wasn’t until I came to New York for college that I began to grasp what happened that day. Living uptown, I would look south to the horizon, and occasionally see the two dominating figures of the Financial District topped with columns of smoke, reaching higher than any architect could envision. When I briefly lived in the FD this past summer, I would jog past the WTC site and look up into the void where the buildings used to stand, and see people jumping to avoid burning to death. But it wasn’t until today, when I visited the Tribute WTC Visitor Center on the south side of Ground Zero, that I cried like my French teacher.

Our journalism class was given a tour of Ground Zero’s southwest perimeter by John Henderson, who on that day watched the towers burn through the arch at Washington Square. We were told of the day’s timeline in minutes, the rescue teams, survivors’ stories, the building itself, and the business of identifying tens of thousands of human remains. It was hard to hear about workers on the top floors of the towers who had to hack away at the stairwell door with an ax, because it was jammed shut by the force of the plane’s impact. Or of the people trapped in their offices, sending confused emails to loved ones, not knowing those were their last words. Or of the firefighter in the north tower’s stairwell, buried under the wreckage of the entire building, angry because it would now take him days to die instead of only a painless instant.

But what really got me was a piece of scrap metal behind a glass case in the museum. It was salvaged from the ruined mass of glass, concrete, metal, and people: a ripped piece of sheet metal with the outline of an airplane window. Looking through the hollow oval, I caught my reflection in the glass, and wondered if the passenger sitting next to this window did the same before their plane smashed into the side of the north or south tower.

Kitchen Table Round-Up

The Meatpacking District’s cobblestones were thoroughly polished with foot traffic from the highly anticipated New York City Wine and Food Festival, which kicked off Thursday, October 9^th, and ran through Sunday the 12^th. Highlights included Friday’s "Midnight Music & Munchies," where chefs like Scott Conant of Scarpetta and Anne Burrell of Centro Vinoteca made late night treats and bartenders like Jim Meehan of PDT and Jason Kosmas of Employees Only whipped up creative concoctions. Saturday saw wine tasting seminars at Del Posto, and a dinner at Adour hosted by Alain Ducasse. The big wrap up party Sunday evening was held at the Hotel Gansevoort’s rooftop lounge, where guests mingled with celebrity chef Todd English and enjoyed cocktails and hors d’oeuvres while watching the sun set over the Hudson.

The Hotel Gansevoort was also the place to be the night of Friday the 10^th , when Prince held a rare private concert in the rooftop’s loft. One hundred tickets went for $1,000 a pop, and money went to Love 4 One Another Charities and Urban Farming. The two back-to-back shows were celebrated by the celebrated, namely Dave Chappelle, Howard Stern, Spike Lee and Anderson Cooper.

There will be more glamour amongst MePa’s grit this Wednesday evening, when the stars come out to celebrate the opening of Hugo Boss’s first ever concept store on 401 W. 14^th St. Five hundred guests will savor creations by caterer Olivier Cheng while grooving to tunes spun by Alexandra and Theodora Richards. Among those expected to attend are Maggie Gyllenhaal, Brooke Shields, Cuba Gooding Jr., and Alan Cumming.

Says Philipp Wolff, Director of Communication at Hugo Boss AG, “This special, globally unique store concept is a tribute to New York and the Meatpacking District. When collaborating with Matteo Thun [the Italian architect], our goal was to create something exceptionally distinctive that both reflected the character of its surroundings and forged a symbiosis with our collections.”

The store features a diamond wooden framework that cocoons the interior of the store, with special lighting that reacts to the weather and time of day. This will be the first time that Hugo Boss sells both their women’s and men’s lines together.

In other opening news, chef April Bloomfield of the West Village’s stylish Spotted Pig plans to debut a new restaurant on 85 10^th Ave in early November. Slated to be called the John Dory, the restaurant will feature seafood and other traditional English dishes from the chef’s home country.

As for more sweet and sour news, last week saw four robberies, four burglaries and two assaults in the West Greenwich Village area, which encompasses MePa. There were 19 reports of grand larceny (property exceeding $1,000). According to a community affairs agent at NYPD’s 6^th Precinct, the items taken were generally purses and wallets. Surprisingly, this number is down from last year’s report of 32 grand larcenies. Overall, crime is down five percent from last year and significantly lower than 1990’s stats, which included seven murders, 10 rapes, and 3,835 reports of grand larceny.