I spent all of about five minutes in this joint before a big work party to celebrate the MTV Awards, and can honestly say it turned my stomach. Even thinking of Miami makes me wretch. Can you think of a more ostentatiously awful city than Miami? Seriously, the hair products and $10,000 dresses are smarter than the people wearing them. This joint actually tries to mimic that South Beach feel, and succeeds to the point that I would think that≠s what a rundown club in Miami would feel like. It may have been my imagination, but my lungs started to close, and my skin broke out in a greasy sweat. I didn’t start to breathe like a human being again until I hit the sidewalk and hailed a cab down to a divey pub. Being a pale landlubber who gets the cold shakes even imagining wearing open-toed shoes makes this a really bad match. I’m sure the party that night was a good time, but I couldn’t take the vision of mesh shirts, Lamborghinis and six-foot Asian women in slit dresses dancing in my head. There≠s clearly something wrong with me, but if I never set foot in the state of Florida again I will die a happy man. [MF]
151 E 50th St.