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Barred: Spritzenhaus
When: Saturday, 11:18pmLike a mini-Murray Hill, the corner that Spritzenhaus inhabits can be off-putting with its overflow of khaki cargo shorts and shouty clumps (80/20 male to female ratio) occupying picnic tables (there is a rule that under-30s can’t leave the house with fewer than five friends). No one has lived apart from a mid-sized town for more than three years, 718 tattoos aside.
And yet there is some deeply weird shit going on within the brick walls and just beyond them. I can’t recall the last time–maybe never–I encountered such a concentration of middle-aged revelers in North Brooklyn. My first assumption was that the cropped pants crew of short-haired ladies, the red-and-black Talbot’s blazer woman with a balding dad jeans, and the suburban bikers all attending the same party, as if all old people must like other old people (similar to how Tinder considers 49+ to be one vast category–if you’re open to dating 50 year olds, you may as well bang a dude who’s 75) but each was its own distinct social group.
Outside the picture windows, a group in their 50s, men in fedoras and a two women, one with a sharp black-and-white bob à la Terri Nunn were strutting toward a parked car. This scene ruined my theory about millennials traveling in packs; perhaps an aversion is uniquely Gen X. Swingers, I swear.
One theory that still holds true is that Williamsburg, and to a lesser degree Greenpoint, are mayhem on weekends but it’s a relatively short, concentrated burst. On my way back to the G around 2am, I passed by Spritzenhaus and it and the cavernous space was mostly empty.
Age Appropriate? Yes, counter-intuitively. One of the women in the biker crew, who resembled a younger Kim Gordon in cords, had to put on reading glasses to look at the beer list and I could admire that.
Was I carded? Yes, and I imagine everyone walking up the steps to the entrance is asked for I.D.
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The baby boomers are too big to ignore. Millennials are too sexy to ignore. What about Gen X? http://t.co/4Up9n4b5Oj
— eMarketer (@eMarketer) September 15, 2015
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Why did the Hain Celestial Group recently revive its 45-year-old tea brand? As the company’s top executive explains it, ‘Millennials are big tea users, and I think they looked at Celestial (Seasonings) maybe as their father’s Oldsmobile.’
Irwin Simon, founder, president and chief executive officer of the Lake Success, N.Y.-based company, said the brand’s consumers were primarily ‘aging baby boomers.’
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Screen Time: Grace and Frankie
Grace and Frankie is a mom show, maybe not my mom, but a mom show nonetheless. My focus on the 40+ drinkers on screen hovers in the 40s out of necessity not self-absorption. There just isn’t a lot of representation beyond that.
Despite Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin being 78 and 75, they play newly single women in their 60s, which is kind of remarkable in itself. On a “Say Yes Night” where one has to agree to everything presented, clothing styles were swapped and Grace was forced into checking out an old haunt of Frankie’s. Yet the dive had been gentrified into a bar full of clean-cut youngsters and whiskey flights. Thankfully, there happened to be old male twosome (one, John Locke from Lost) on the prowl who treated the ladies to a tasting.
Yes, this results in dancing on the bar and having a car towed because it’s that kind of show.
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Ladies’ Night: Karen Hudes
Welcome to Ladies’ Night, the first in a series of interviews I’m doing with women about aging, drinking in public, and generally being awesome in spite of having crossed over into so-called middle age.
First up is Karen Hudes, a 42-year-old editor who just took over the Front & Center blog for Rockefeller Center, in addition to freelancing for Zagat and Refinery29. She’s also the creator of the cooking game Menu Mash-Up, as well as an occasional jewelry designer (see her handiwork on my wrist).
We met near Williamsburg’s phantom White Castle at Harefield Road where both The Vaselines and Suicidal Tendencies, bands that would’ve put you into slightly different high school cliques three decades ago, were being played.
What made you choose this bar?
This bar’s been around for what feels like a long time now–at least ten years. The atmosphere is more like a neighborhood place. I don’t really go enough to be a regular but friends of mine are, and it’s a meet-up place. A couple of my friends got married at City Hall and we got a table here afterwards. It just feels comfortable.
How long have you lived in the neighborhood?
Since ‘96. I feel like I’m lucky I got here when I did. I had just been out of college for a year and I grew up in Queens. Back then, there were only three places to go out in the neighborhood. Where I live between the Graham and Lorimer stops, just a few blocks from here, felt a little farther away at the time. Now I’m glad I have some distance from Bedford because this still feels like a real neighborhood. It still has its Italian roots, some of the Italian shops, and old neighborhood and the newer people have integrated pretty well. I just really feel connected to it, and if I tried to move here now I could never afford it.
Not to make this about me, but when I first moved to NYC at 25 I briefly lived in Williamsburg above what’s now The Richardson, then didn’t move back to until I was 40 and everything was different. I was like wow, I still like going out and doing things but everyone in this neighborhood is under 30. Do you feel like an old-timer?
Well, through my 30s I felt pretty young and I just didn’t notice it so much. It wasn’t like I was running in circles with the new people or I’d go to a bar and feel like oh, I’m so old. I could pass a little bit, though I definitely had friends who felt very conscious of it. I was on a kickball team which felt unique to the neighborhood at the time and seemed like a good way to meet people. Even then, I was a bit on the older side, in my early-to-mid 30s. That whole culture was strange because it’s almost like you’re revisiting junior high and it kind of lends itself to not growing up, which is the reputation the neighborhood has in general. But this area feels a little more mature–like the clientele at this bar is more 30s, 40s.
When I first moved here Teddy’s was one of the only bars. It’s really old and it has a really good burger and one time I was hanging out with Jessica [a mutual friend who’s lived on the same block as Teddy’s for 15 years] and I said maybe we could stop in and she said, “Oh, I’m afraid of that. I think that’s where you go when you’re really old.”
I think it’s been sold. Same with the dog bar. What’s left? Turkey’s Nest? Greenpoint Tavern?
There’s an old-school bar on Metropolitan but it feels very much closed off.
Joe Jr or whatever it’s called? [Editor’s note: Jr & Son]
Yes! I’ve lived here so long I should go. It would’ve been funny if I’d met you there. There are always guys out front that don’t make it feel like they want you there. Then again, it might like Moe’s and they’d be happy to see us.
Going back to what you said about “passing.” That’s kind of true for a lot of women I know, especially in Williamsburg, and maybe it’s a self-selecting group. A lot of my friends seem young for their age, but it might be because they don’t have kids and they’re not married. Is there something to this?
Because I’m petite I’ve always looked younger even when I didn’t want to, so I feel like that stayed with me. I think not having kids is the key. You take on a huge responsibility and you take on a different kind of stress. It’s joyful too, obviously, but there’s something about not having kids where you feel less like you’re transitioning to this other state.
Ok, I want to talk about Menu Mash-Up. Could you explain a little how the game works?
All the players have a hand of ingredient cards and prep cards (like “fried” or “roasted” or “sandwich”). The judge for each round is called the “diner” and picks a dish card like “midnight snack” or “romantic dinner,” and the other players use their cards to create menus to fill the order. Whichever menu the diner picks as the best one wins that round. So the dishes people come up with can go from totally delicious-sounding to really silly and funny.
When people think of food and media, board games probably aren’t the first thing they think of. How did you come to the idea?
Personally, I don’t feel like a natural with social media, and you know that since we’re friends on Facebook and I barely post. I want to be a part of the world, but it’s not a natural extension of my personality. I felt very aware of it being a growing force and in my profession as an editor. I’ve always written very precise things and headlines and I’m writing social media posts and and enjoy the craft of it, but it’s not what I gravitate towards, so I was seeking out another avenue.
When I was younger my family played a lot of board games. I really enjoyed having this structure where you have a challenge and you are participating with other people and relating in a different way. I had read something about this idea that in the past decade was the rise of social media and in the coming decade games would be on the rise. I thought oh, that feels natural to me. I was working at Zagat and ready to make a change, and if I left I wanted to have a project that I was working on.
Here’s the big question that I have a hard time even saying without feeling creepy–do you consider yourself to be middle-aged?
I never think in those terms. Well, my image of it definitely doesn’t match up with me. But it’s funny, I guess technically it makes sense. Everyone just seems younger now. If you look at old movies everyone seemed really old when they were in their 20s. They already seemed sort of middle-aged. Culturally, I think things have shifted so people are more youthful at our age.
Right. When my mom was 40, I was already in college.
My mom got married at 25 and that was considered on the later side. The expectations were so different. Maybe it feels like an old-fashioned term because I have an image of it from when I’m younger that seemed so far away. There’s also something about the term that seems dowdy, not lively–ugh, lively even sounds like an old lady term. Middle-aged just feels like an inert phrase.
I’ve been starting with food and drink women because that’s sort of relevant to my blog’s original mission (whatever that was) but not everyone wants to talk about aging–or even say their age–in a public forum. They’ll talk about it, just not here.
Food is an area where people can age really well. It’s been one of the great things for Williamsburg, since so much of the music scene moved here, but that can be tougher as you get older. Food goes across all ages–cooks and writers are respected. It’s an area that allows a big range. And your palate matures as you try different things.
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Barred: Bierleichen and Onderdonk & Sons
Image: BencorioartWhen: Sunday, 6:51pm and 9:04pm
My notes from the new (at the time I actually went–I’ve been busy the past few months) Ridgewood heavy metal beerhall, Bierleichen, read “Awesomely mixed. Is metal the great equalizer?” by which I meant tribally diverse, not age-wise. On an early Sunday there were Latino dudes, a mixed gender rockabilly crew, man bun hipsters, generic young white people like you see in Astoria and could either be Midwest transplants or children of immigrants who haven’t moved to the suburbs yet, and an errant older gentleman I assumed to be Eastern European because all Ridgewood bars, even the upstarts, are required by law to accommodate at least one hold out.
Bierleichen, to its credit, is going for something different than a lot of new drinking establishments. Beer corpse, the name’s translation, is funny, for one. It’s not super polished. It looks like it set up in an old garage (and I think it may have been) with a lot of rough wood ceiling beams, raw cement floors and walls, glossy black subway tile for a little class, softened by skylights and hanging plants. There’s a random upright piano, picnic tables and those glass beer stein boots. And yes, Judas Priest, Scorpions and Danzig all got play on my visit. This might also be the only place in the neighborhood–a pretty good sausage neighborhood–where vegans can participate in sausage-eating.
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Onderdonk & Sons, on the other hand, is sticking with the established tin ceiling, exposed brick and rich, dark woods aesthetic. I mean, it looks good and the booths are comfy. There is also no hard liquor despite screaming cocktail den. The fries are way better than average, by the way.
This crowd was younger, more male, more foreign (Brazilian? Russian?) and more neck-tattooed. I arbitrarily decided it was for overpaying airbnb guests. And probably Okcupid (not Tinder) dates.
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Third stop was the previously blogged Queens Tavern where we encountered a number of the same people who had been at the aforementioned two bars as if there were only three neighborhood bars to choose from and this was the logical order in which to visit them.
There are no shortage of Ridgewood bars for newcomers and they just keep coming. I recently met a young man who is somehow involved with a bar being Kickstarted called The Bad Old Days…which I can’t even. Like the ‘70s when white folks were lobbying for Ridgewood to get its own zip code to split from Bushwick? The late ’90s when I thought I lived an hour from civilization and area bars were patronized by neo-nazis not neu-metalheads? The dark ages before cafes served single-origin coffee and Vietnamese food could be found at all, let alone using grass-fed beef?
Was I carded? At both places, no.
Age appropriate? At both places, no, not literally, but it’s still Queens so who cares really.
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And Gen X observes smugly from the sidelines.
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Barred: Sophie’s
When: Saturday, 10:07pm
Even with Saturday night kicking into gear in the East Village, the crowd at Sophie’s, perpetually post-college, was shockingly civilized. As if by magic a four-seater opened up as soon as my party of three entered the once-familiar threshold.
Maybe it was the work of the older gent (one of two) with a cane, not a staff, but who came to be called Dust Bowl Gandalf nonetheless for his crumple-peaked Depression-era hat and white whiskers.
One thing I don’t understand is how the jukebox–The Smiths, Stone Roses–remains in the ‘80s yet the bar’s average age always hovers around 26, now just with more beards and man buns. If it were up to me, the Violent Femmes song playing would be updated to “Gone Dadbod Gone.” As if on cue, a young, mildly schlubby dude in a flannel appeared as the tune came on, looked around for something or someone, and left. Bye. Gone.
Sophie’s is where in 1998, five months into being a New Yorker, I told Henry Thomas, Elliott from E.T., to meet me. And he did. Later, he would stop returning my calls and invited others to Sophie’s casually and familiarly as if it was his regular haunt and hadn’t just been introduced to it by me. Such is the way of grown child stars.
If I weren’t with my friend Jane on this particular night, the same friend who happened to be with me at Sophie’s that fated evening 16-and-a-half years ago (along with her boyfriend at the time who now co-owns Abraço three blocks away) I might not believe any of it transpired.
Was I carded? Yes, at the door. Before I arrived, the third member of my party was waiting outside and chatting with the doorman who told her people were always embarrassed about their age but were never older than he was. He didn’t look that old.
Age appropriate? Not for women on a weekend night, no. The last time I stopped into Sophie’s was nearly four years ago when I was feeling sorry for myself on my 39th birthday because a last-minute call for company at HiFi only turned up two friends. (Actually that still doesn’t sit right with me and is inducing the annual anxiety that makes me leave town if possible when the date arrives.) On the earlier side, sun still out, it was locals scene, including a few middle-aged couples.
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Screen Time: The Returned
I don’t reject American remakes sight unseen (though I also can’t think of a successful example off the top of my head). The only thing saved the first few episodes of The Returned was that it stuck to Les Revenants’ script faithfully, language and geography aside. But if it hadn’t gone all American and expository and created unnecessary conflicts, we wouldn’t have been treated to this scene where Michelle Forbes (50 in real life–I have no idea how old she was supposed to be when a flood struck her mental institution in the ‘80s) drinks tequila shots and slow dances at what appears to be the only bar in town, the Dog Star, with Glenn, an indignant dam engineer played by the “Swagger Wagon” dad.
