Is your favorite thing in the New York Times Amanda Stern reporting on a night out with a pants designer? You can feel the Brooklyn seething, it is delicious, it slices right open the lie that Manhattan is still New York and not just Disneyland for bankers and pretty lobotomy cases:
Margarita in hand, Ms. Bendet saucily added a signature drink to the chalkboard menu (misspelling Patrón): “The Pantserita. Petron Silver. Fresh lime,” then drew an equal sign and a smiley face.
An hour and a new bar later (Beatrice Inn, on West 12th Street), someone reached for Ms. Bendet’s drink, and she spoke like a true designer. “That’s your drink,” she said, pointing to another glass. “It has a golden hue. I’m very color-sensitive.”