A Patty Stand Is Launching at Lincoln Center From an Acclaimed Chef
It's part of a larger event series at the performance venue, in collaboration with the Infatuation, running from Friday, June 11 to Saturday, August 9, with a mix of top chefs and up-and-comers in the city: The line-up includes Sam Yoo of Golden Diner, fine dining restaurant Saga's Charlie Mitchell, Korean Cajun restaurant Kjun's Jae Jung, and Bushwick's streetside ice cream sensation Nieves Cortes. Food is served at night, from Wednesday through Sunday, in tandem with shows at Lincoln Center, opening an hour before and closing after its duration.
A new media elite clubhouse is here
The Marlton, just off Washington Square Park, on West Eighth Street, has long been a hotel lobby functional for meetings and doing some laptop work. But in recent years, it had lost some of its luster. That is about to change thanks to the debut of Chez Nous, a buzzy new bistro that is sure to become a media elite clubhouse. It comes from David Kuhn, a literary agent, and his life partner, Kevin Thompson, a production designer who worked on Maestro — with an equally stacked group of guests at its opening party, chronicled by the New York Times . The French menu plays it straight with some tweaks: a menu lists whole artichoke, a yuzu tuna tartare, a Nicoise salad, shrimp cocktails with cured fennel and preserved lemon, steak, whole chicken, and a burger. The restaurant is currently open for reservations, including during breakfast hours — it's definitely work meeting-friendly.
A horror-themed bookstore cafe for Williamsburg
Bookstore cafes are everywhere in New York. The latest is the Twisted Spine, a horror-themed bookstore with drinks, on its way to Williamsburg. It'll be located at 306 Grand Street, near Havemeyer Street, Greenpointers reported. Eater has reached out for more information. See More:
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UPI
24 minutes ago
- UPI
Listen: Doja Cat teases 'Jealous Type,' first single from new album
1 of 5 | Doja Cat arrives on the red carpet at the Met Gala in May. She is teasing new music from her upcoming album, "Vie." File Photo by John Angelillo/UPI | License Photo Aug. 7 (UPI) -- Doja Cat is teasing new music. The singer, 29, released a 30-second snippet of her song "Jealous Type" on Thursday. The preview features a neon red rose with Doja Cat's name written in cursive along the stem. The track will appear on her upcoming, "pop-driven" album, Vie, which is due sometime in the fall, Billboard reports. The songstress previously shared on X that she had finished the album. "L'album est complete," her post reads in French. Her fans shared their excitement in the comments. "Album of the decade is coming," one social media user wrote. L'album est complet — DOJA CAT (@DojaCat) July 21, 2025 She previously released Scarlet in 2023. Doja Cat: red carpets, awards, fashion Doja Cat arrives for the 19th annual BET Awards at the Microsoft Theater in Los Angeles on June 23, 2019. In 2020, the star performed at the MTV VMAs and performed at "The annual Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve with Ryan Seacrest" event alongside Bebe Rexha, Jennifer Lopez, Billy Porter, Cyndi Lauper and Jimmie Allen. Photo by Chris Chew/UPI | License Photo
Cosmopolitan
an hour ago
- Cosmopolitan
My Boyfriend and I Had Sex in a Restaurant Bathroom
You'd be lying if you told me Michelin-starred menus didn't make you horny. 'Fine dining' establishments are modeled to elicit appetite—hunger as a double entendre. There's the aphrodisiac quality of it all: sultry lighting, finger foods, James Blake-adjacent playlists. You're Dressed-with-a-capital-D, tonguing oysters, the mere width of a table separating your body from your date's. What on earth are you to do with all that carnal tension? Wait until you get home? I'll tell you what you do: Have sex in the bathroom. My first dining rendezvous took place between the amuse-bouche and the appetizers at a French restaurant housed in a Lower East Side hotel. On the evening in question, my then-boyfriend, Max*, and I were dining with another couple—old friends of his. He'd been out of town for nearly a week, so we hadn't been alone together in a small eternity—certainly long enough to feel like we'd amassed a surplus of pent-up desire. Since we'd met, some years earlier, we'd shared a particular affection for toying with sexual tension in rooms full of other people—all that poetic, eye-fucking-from-across-the-room-at-a-party, sexting-under-the-table-at-family-dinner shit. Hardly original; you get the gist. Right then, mid-martini, swallowing salt and brine and oyster flesh, I felt Max, seated opposite me, reaching for my knee under the table—then further north, further north, further north, until he was toying gently with the lacy edges of my underwear. He was telling a story about a jacket he bought on Grailed, or the Safdie brothers, or some other categorically similar subject matter. I was nodding politely, waiting to see if he'd break character, feeling so lethally turned on my skin hurt. I ate the olive from my martini glass just to do something—anything, expel energy—while his fingers feathered back and forth between my legs until it was impossible to sit still any longer. 'I've got to run to the restroom,' I announced to the table, perhaps too abruptly. 'Max, will you show me where to go?' Ever the gentleman, he stood, placing his cloth napkin beside his plate and guiding me by the small of my back—at first gently, then with some force—toward the bathrooms. I held my breath waiting to learn what, exactly, the restroom layout might turn out to be. Would we find ourselves cramped in a stall, doing our best not to jostle the doors while unassuming restaurant clientele pissed gently beside us? Would we pick the men's room or the women's room? Would we leave our clothes on? Would we even have sex—or was I being overzealous? We hesitated outside, unsure which bathroom to enter. We stood opposite one another, positively radiating electricity, feeling pheromones between us as if they were some kind of palpable pollution in the air. Finally, someone emerged from the men's room (a sign, surely), and in we went. Inside, urinals lined the wall—but the stalls, unlike those in, say, a high school bathroom, were properly floor-to-ceiling enclosed. Without pause, we entered through the nearest threshold and he pushed me against the door, clicked the lock, and sank down to his knees, pulling my underwear down around my ankles as he lowered himself. He kissed my upper thighs, ever inward, until his tongue was a whole other organ in my body. Then, in a movement swift enough to make me believe this was not his first bathroom sex rodeo, he lifted me onto the sink and unbuckled his belt. The sound I made as he entered me was just loud enough that he clapped his hand over my mouth. Is there anything hotter than a man who has never been anything but tender, covering your mouth with the palm of his hand? I bit his fingers and we stayed like that until he finished—quickly, of course. But that's the point: promptness—at least when you have a couple waiting for you at a dinner table mere meters away. No, I didn't cum, and even so, it was, at the time, the most sultry tryst of my life. Don't ask me how that's possible. It shouldn't be, but it is. But wait. Let me tell you what chicken-crepes-for-two taste like after a man you love has been inside you—quickly, quietly, covertly—spitting distance from the table at which you're eating: Like butter. Like a million dollars. Like, Holy fuck. Our second offense transpired less than a week later, out to eat with friends at one of those buzzy Dimes Square restaurants preceded by its reputation, attended only by verified hot people. I'll be honest: I'd selected the venue, above all else, for its bathroom. Lined with painted tiles reminiscent of the cover art on Renata Adler's Speedboat, this was the sort of stall-less, single-occupant restroom practically designed to alleviate some of the complications that come with fucking in a stall. We were drinking wine; bubbles to start. On the table: shrimp toast and olives. And amidst all the clambering, watery din of the room, all of us sucking olive meat from pits, I felt Max beside me, tightening his grip around my thigh. My phone buzzed with a text: 'Go to the bathroom. Now.' Once again, I excused myself, biting my tongue, disappearing into the restroom and breathing heavy with my back against the door until I heard a knock, followed by a quiet, 'It's me.' He slipped in, kissed my neck, and began to unbutton me hungrily (I was wearing a jumpsuit, so I had no choice but to strip naked—an arousing inconvenience of its own). He lifted me up against the door, my legs wrapped around his waist, then set me down, flipped me around, and entered me from behind, pulling my hair, kissing my chin, clapping his hand, once again, over my mouth. He finished quickly, both of us panting, and I remember marveling at the notion that sex need not always operate as a means to an end. That at times, the sheer, rapturous adrenaline high of an encounter like this one could be enough. He helped me back into my jumpsuit, the two of us finger-combing one another's hair so as not to arouse suspicion, giggling. 'You first,' he said, kissing me hard on the mouth. I emerged feeling radiant, almost holy, and slipped into my seat, sliding back into whatever groove of conversation had been carrying on without me. Minutes later, Max, too, returned to his seat, a fresh bottle of wine at the center of the table, along with a bowl of steamed, curried mussels and two plates stacked with rounds of sourdough. Have you ever tasted something in your whole body? Tongue, sternum, fingertips? Here's the secret: Have sex first. After all, what is fine dining without the lord's intended palate cleanser between courses? *Name has been changed.
Elle
4 hours ago
- Elle
The 5 Coolest Bob Haircuts Taking Over Copenhagen Fashion Week
The street style at Copenhagen fashion week is a sight to behold, as show-goers never fail to deliver ultra-cool haircut trends and fashion inspo to carry us through this season and beyond. While we've been waxing lyrical about French and Italian bobs (they're still a favourite for chic cuts), it turns out that Copenhagen bob hairstyles are the one to beat if you're looking for statement-making looks. Bobs took over the Danish capital, bringing an offbeat Scandi-spirit. Nothing prim or stuffy here, as stylish street style stars embrace a more rebellious vibe with their hair through choppy layers, uneven ends, or by teaming their bobs with equally mesmerising fringes. If you're in the mood for something dramatic, try the wispy, feathery bob which is perfect for fine hair. It's cut to almost a pixie shape, so if you've been considering a tight crop, the Scandi bixie is an excellent way to ease into the style. Elsewhere, full yet extra short bobs make the most out of thicker hair. It's voluminous and brings with it a nonchalant glamour that feels especially fresh for any upcoming heatwaves. There's something here for the more low-maintenance among us too, as Copenhagen fashion week attendees demonstrate how to elevate the longer, easier to manage shoulder-length bob. The cheat sheet? Pile on the hair accessories and make sure your colour is bright and glossy for maximum impact. Meanwhile, a modern mullet or graduated style is an easy way to elevate a curly bob as it brings out the best of your natural texture. If there's one takeaway from the bobs spotted in Copenhagen, it's that there really is no wrong way to embrace a short hairstyle. It's all about dialling into your individuality and attitude. Short, curly haircuts are blessed with volume and movement. This graduated chop, which is shorter in front and longer in the back, is a modern take on a mullet chop. Paired with the trendy boho bangs, this choppy, chin-length bob brings with it a rebellious edge. If you need a sign to take the plunge, this is it. The extra short, earlobe-grazing chop makes an impactful statement; keep styling to a minimal and just pair with fanciful earrings. Grungy, offbeat and undoubtedly cool, this feathery statement cut is a great bob for fine hair types to make an impact. Take it to the next level with a micro fringe and bleached brows. Dial up a short hairstyle with fun accessories such as hair bows and a striking colour. The silver hardware jewellery helps to bring balance to this unapologetically girlish style. Medina Azaldin is the beauty editor of ELLE and Harper's Bazaar UK, working across print and digital features. She has more than seven years journalism experience and has previously written for Red and Good Hoousekeeping. When she's not demystifying the latest skincare ingredient, sniffing out the next big perfume trend or uncovering the science behind wellness practices, you'll most likely find her in Hatchards Piccadilly or watching a crime series with her cats. Oh, and she's a competitive cheerleader, too.
