To hell and back at The Standard Hotel

 

Above: The view from the Standard Hotel's elevator - one you don't mind being stuck in

The Standard Hotel - a shingle as chicly understated as the building is understatedly chic - has opened its lounge in the stratosphere. Straddling the wildly popular Highline aerial park, which I filmed just before it opened, this Polshek-designed, Andre Balazs-owned inn reminds of the Jolly Gray Giant. 

I don't even know what the latest name of the lounge is - Manifest? Boom Boom ... Boom? The celebs have christened it of course, but this post is for us plebestrians who pass between the Giant's gray chino'd thighs, peering crotchward to see if those mile high performances are just a myth (here's another punny headline to add to the mix: Motel Sex - boom boom).

You enter the hotel through a Lego-like yellow cylinder and reappear in a small lobby flanked by two very cool, white egg-crate like partitions. The maid in me wonders if someone is hired to featherdust each and every hole ...

The elevator to the lounge features a stunning video installation called "Civilization", a looping 300-clip collage by by acclaimed artist Marco Brambilla. From his website:

Civilization depicts a journey from hell to heaven interpreted through the modern language of film using computer-enhanced found footage. This epic video mural contains over 300 individual channels of looped video blended into a multi-layered seamless tableau of interconnecting images that illustrates a contemporary, satirical take on the concepts of Heaven and Hell.

As the lift ascends,  the video takes you to heaven. As it descends, you go to hell. You see snippets from all the movies you ought to see before you die: Michael Jackson breakbeats on a grassy knoll; Santa emerges from a cave shaped like a yawning mouth; ET sails across the moon. Apparently if an artist uses less than 3 seconds of footage no royalty fee is due. The lift attendant patiently and good naturedly allows you to ride up and down several times trying to go to heaven or hell. Try as we might, we could never go to hell, the angels we are.

On reaching the lounge floor, a low window gives your shins a spectacular view of the Meatpacking district.

There's a reception to the inner sanctum. The good news is that we of the sneaker and nylon parka set can easily visit this area from 4pm til 9pm, Tuesday to Saturday. After that, it re-opens to people with superior genes (and jeans) than you.

"We have a coat and bag policy," said the attendant.

"Goodie, I've got both," said my friend gleefully, about to launch himself through the Millenium-Falcon-like porthole in his Tevas. 

Not so fast - you need to cloak your jacket and bag, before partaking of a $7 cup of tea or $20 cocktail and a surround-town view of Manhattan, the Hudson and the Jersey shoreline. Not for security reasons, mind you, but to "maintain the lines of the lounge." Heaven forbid your padded Patagonia snowvest slung over the back of those terraced, white leather lounges! If you're wearing a blingy Versace duster over your Dept Public Works overalls, you might be allowed to keep it on - in fact, you should.

Once inside, you literally swim in soft pink light. There is a central "tree of booze", as my friend called it that does indeed transport you to the Carousel scene in Logan's Run where you'll be waste on your own tab, not theirs, by sassily attired, bow-wearing cocktail waitresses. There are sunken pits on either side where you can arrange yourself on the aforementioned, leather rice-paddies and drown in the hell-to-heaven view - and $20 cocktails.  I was given an earlier tour of this area by friend and lighting architect Peiheng Tsai. She's often called in to tweak the lighting just so. What a fun job that must be.

There is a narrow little smoking balcony off to one side - try and snag it for a few moments while the puffers are inside taking a clean air break. The view is spectacular, taking in the luminous Empire State in its latest peacock like plumage, and two of my personal favorites - the MetLife tower, which transports me to somewhere in Europe, and the Shop architecture firm's 'citadel' as I call it, which transports me to another planet.  12th St, 13th St and Washington Ave hurtle away in their respective directions below. The floor of the smoking balcony is translucent,  so hell plummets to a vanishing point between your feet. Don't look down if you have vertigo.

I consider this a candidate for my Cheap'n'Choosy blog in that a $7 cup of tea can be broken into a market value $3 for the tea, and $4 for the view. It's better than paying $17 for a no-drinks view from teh Rockefeller center - at least you don't freeze your ass off.