Inside The Gates

When any kind of members-only nightclub opens in New York, I generally assume I will never see the inside. But lo and behold, the Gates had a party last night, and the gates creaked open for me.

This spot used to be the Biltmore Room. I never got to visit that place, because as it often goes with New York hot spots, when I first wanted to go I could never get a reservation, then by the time I could get a reservation, no one wanted to go with me. Then Danny Kane reopened the spot as The Gates last month, keeping the gorgeous decor – ornate marble walls and floors – intact. This plus the vibe kind of reminded me of ’80s glitz, when everything was Trump – the Metropolitan era. Crystal disco balls splashing light from the chandeliers off the marble walls? It’s a debutante’s dream of a rec room.

There was a musical theme for the evening: Oldies Shakeup by DJ Josh Madden. This struck us as kind of odd, since when I hear “Sherrie Baby” I think of my parents twisting the night away. Party down, Mom and Dad! But if you weren’t even exposed to that music as a kid, being a child of boomers, it must seem exotic. At least, as another guest pointed out, it’s not what you hear in every single other club in the city.

There was no specialty cocktail menu that I could find, but the drinks the bartenders did pour – a martini for me, a Negroni for D. – were quite good, though  pricey at $32 for two cocktails. The only problem was the attitude at the bar – not from the bartenders, but the other customers. This is one of those places where people take it as a personal challenge to see who gets served first in a never-ending game of one-upmanship, while the rest of us just get bored waiting. If it wasn’t the unusually tall, pretty girls (modelites?) on one side, it was the 60-something-year-old guys on the other (investors?), who had obviously already had a few. (Perhaps communing with our annoyance, the bartender gave us a couple free shots for our trouble – thanks, dude.)

When a club opens with a policy of giving cards to only 125 lucky “ambassadors” in this city of eight or so million (now expanded to ambassadors and “members”), you have to wonder who these people are. Is it true influence, money, or looks Danny Kane is going for? The older guys seemed to be the backers, or at least the ones still willing to shell out serious bills, while many of the younger people – next stop, 27 – just seemed to look good. I also heard from someone who’s logged a lot of time in the club that many of the people looking good there are good at doing just that and not much else – think day job at Urban Outfitters. But among these people were the occasional familiar faces – including a couple of friends.

“This whole group just seems so random,” D. said.

“Well, isn’t that what a club is supposed to be?” I said.

That’s the strange thing about so many members-only clubs in New York – like Soho House or even Norwood – the more you strive for intimacy, the more you realize that you’re still in New York, and you’re still surrounded by strangers – something that seemed more normal when clubs were anonymous dens of iniquity. You know, like in the real ’80s.

The Gates
290 8th Avenue between 24th and 25th Streets
212-206-8646
Door strategy: Smile and dress up – dresses and heels for women, a blazer or button-down for men

More on The Gates on Grub Street.