Because New York is a freezing tundra and because The Monster is lazy and hates being cold he decides to try out Imperial Number 9 at the Soho Mondrian. Beautiful chandeliers clumped together hang from the ceiling, a wall of glass vases on a mirrored table separates the long bar from the dining area (and will surely be some drunk fools complete undoing one of these days). The space is, well, it’s as though no one had any idea what it should look like and so they tried a whole hell of a lot of different ideas. So it’s at once beautiful and dreadful. Like the chair The Monster is sitting in. It sucks. Uncomfortable as hell and should be in a garden, not in a restaurant. The very high vaulted 70’s style glass roof is ugly as sin. And what are the pictures of birds in costume? Seriously, what the hell are they?
Service is kind of take it or leave it, you’re being blessed when they offer a menu or refill your water. You could say that’s New York but that’s crap. How many people who work here can pass by and ignore The Monster? Four? Five? Six? Seven?