We went to another office holiday party! L Magazine, the little (print!) listings guide that could, threw a — possibly postmortem — seasonal shindig on Friday. At a time when editorial assistants all over the city are being fired, it proved that sometimes it’s good to be the little guy, since no one’s expecting Snow Queen vodka or take-home ice-sculpture nutcrackers. Score one for alcoholic underdogs everywhere! It was down at Home Sweet Home, which isn’t, technically, near the L train. When we snuck down the staircase there wasn’t really anyone at the door, except two drunk interns wearing Santa hats so you could find them and make fun of them. (Interns are great, aren’t they? You can publicly dress them up for the holidays and they don’t even complain. Like real-person paper dolls, except they secretly resent you.)
There was a legit open bar, as free and charmingly budget as L Magazine, but it ended promptly at 10:30. Since we got there a little bit late (long story), we had just enough time to triple-fist a few Smirnoff-and-tonics, and even though it’s hard to hold three drinks in that triangle shape, we only spilled a little. We had a good time — it was a lively crowd, especially the corner with the n +1 guys (no, seriously). But except for the taxidermy (which is a sadly apt media metaphor, when you think about it), it was pretty much like every other LES party we’ve been to this year — dark basement, flannel, marginally employed creative types, Nicky Digital. Oh well; free gin. Happy holidays!
Verdict (Out of 5): Food: 1 (we know you have to slither into those skinny jeans, but an ironic concession to food would have been appreciated); drink: 3 (free; there); venue: 4 (taxidermy gets people talking); debauchery: 2; exclusivity: 2.
