My goodness, the summer is here. Yes, you may be thinking 'but of course, Cynthia - haven't you looked outside?', but I have been much too busy holding forth on the subject of developments on East Forty-ninth Street these past few weeks to have noticed the summer fashions creeping in. A thousand apologies, dear readers - but my eyes were distracted again just this last Friday by Bill Magil's lovely new Cameo establishment, right smack in the middle of said street. The grill is perhaps nothing to shout about, but the real attraction of Cameo is the two-level dancefloor, where dancing goes long into the night, and even past curfew if you get the right evening. Of course, to spare Mr. Magil's blushes to the constabulary, I will refrain from mentioning exactly when. One tip for Good Girls: the slats on the upper level are spaced apart more than you might imagine, so dress accordingly. After falling out onto the street sometime later that night, we ended up in Harlem. Now, as you know, I have pointed out the failings of Harlem many a time in this column, but I always like to keep a somewhat open mind, plus my companion for the evening was an out-of-towner who couldn't bear the thought of returning back to provincial settings without some tales of debauchery uptown. The crosses we bear for friendship. Anyway, after showing her around The Cotton Club, we chanced upon Hulu's. Small and spartan it may have been, but the bartender's gin and ginger lime was exquisite. I shall return again when I have a more experienced partner on my arm. Now that summer is here, expect some of the more popular terraces to empty out a little as the cruise season takes off in earnest. No Paris for me this year, but I will drown my sorrrows at the Cecil's Terrace on Forty-third. Do come by and say hello. C.
Oh My! Gin Ginger Lime!