Sunday, July 09, 2006, 8:08 PM
This place is me all over. Bohemian. Dark. Edgy. From the outside, it looks like one of those Mexican villas that you'd find on a balmy, tropical island. There are water spigots on the roof that spit out a fine mist, so don't wear eyeglasses and don't bother doing your hair.
Inside, it's like a renovated barn with vaulted, exposed beam ceilings. There are rooms-upon-rooms, all of them cavernous and stone-like with red candle lighting, dark brown wood trimming, curved archways with painted designs, wooden room dividers with cutouts. I find it to be sprawling, open, yet cozily private. Very Arabic, except I'm sure Allah would never approve of disco, often the choice of music played here.
There are couches everywhere, black and red and deep and made of leather, inviting seats with red and white velvet hug me pillows, in areas which can be partitioned off by heavy curtains suspended from the ceiling. There are couches outside, white cushions surrounded by wicker and draped with transparent muslin good for keeping out mosquitoes, or if you're in the mood to put on a show, for titillation.
They serve coconut shrimp, biscotti, hot wings and a positively wicked cosmopolitan martini. Who are they? The cream of the cream. Tall, built, intelligent, with smiles that send your pulse racing. They let you lick the salt off their neck.
It's up to you to discover the price.