Speaking of Paul Sevigny and unfortunate odors (not at the same time), we hit up the first-anniversary party of Good Night Mr. Lewis, where Sevigny D.J.-ed a couple of nights ago, and it has to be said: After not even four months of pushing overpriced bottles, Greenhouse is already well on its way to having the stale-beer funk of a MacDougal Street douchetination. Might be time to add some real plants, starting with potpourri?
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