In the Down by the Hipster comments, “maitre d’ to the stars” Abbe Diaz pens a letter to Matt Levine, recounting a time, recently, when he sent an e-mail promising admittance to the Eldridge: “We all (the manager friend, a marketing director for YSL, a seven-time manhattan restaurateur, a GM for a midtown 3-star, and i) hop into two cabs and hike it alls the way over to your place in east bumfuck.” (Also known as the Lower East Side.) Upon arrival, Diaz and her entourage received the Emily Brill treatment from the doorman: “Even after he is SHOWN the e-mail (which apparently, you cc'd to him?) he still wants to make a spectacular ‘display’ of us, seeing as there’s NOBODY else waiting on line (and that's bad for your ‘image,’ right?)” By the time Levine texts them to come in, offering a comped table, they’re outee. Curiously, Diaz doesn’t mention exactly how long she was made to wait — we’re guessing from her tone (“i'm an ‘old’ AND a ‘veteran’ of the industry you see”) that she was gone in sixty seconds.
Everyone is Not Invited to the Eldridge! [Down by the Hipster]