Redemption: It might be somewhat telling of a neighborhood when the owners optimistically name their social spot Redemption. This newbie is stuck in the armpit of Midtown, but that hasn’t prevented a cavalry of pretty boys on a hair-gel overdose, poor little rich girls, and token fuzzy dudes with tired, red eyes from stopping by for a night out. Aiming for an upscale martini crowd, Redemption is what you might expect to find in a European airport, with colored neon lights angled against a white ceiling, $9 cocktails—heavy on the ice—and $10 hamburgers. The DJ plays music to jiggle to, but no cabaret license means no white-man’s-overbite, for better or worse. On the bright side, there’s a strong showing of debutantes, and they’re hot, if that’s any, sigh, redemption. |
