At The Baroness, a bar in nearby Long Island City, Queens, patrons can engage in sabrage.
Property of The Baroness
“What’s sabrage?” seven out of ten of you are asking right now. Fortunately the Wall Street Journal posted this handy dandy guide to sabering back in 2010 [ignore the illustration which clearly gets several details wrong].
There’s also this very serious video complete with classical music and warning about the dangerousness of this endeavor.
I asked The Baroness for more info.
@1chicklette we only allow Sabrage with Champagne! Needs the pressure… And must be from France.
The year was 1995. Or maybe it was 1996. Perhaps my memory is fuzzy on that detail because it’s so clear on the rest.
I was young and fresh. Sort of cute maybe, but not cosmopolitan. My Scranton roots showed. I lived in Manhattan‘s Gramercy Park neighborhood where my rent was $950 per month and my entry-level salary was $25,000 per year. I was poor but somehow unconcerned, a combination of parental subsidies and youthful bluster-slash-cluelessness.
Observe all of the 90s awesomeness happening in this pic
“It will all work out,” I figured each time I put down my credit card for Chinese food, pints of Guinness or blondehighlights.
I took a second job working part-time at the Broadway location of Equinox checking IDs for the cheaper membership as well as the extra money. Once I checked in Michael J. Fox, but didn’t realize until he had proceeded through the turnstile. It was only when his member photo popped up on my computer monitor, that I said “Oh” aloud, recognizing him. He was so little in person.
I used the little bit of Equinox cash I earned to purchase personal training sessions. Of course.
Part of why I chose to live in Brooklyn was to start fresh. To avoid walking past this building or that and think “oh, that used to be…”
But nostalgia comes anyway. Sometimes because I go looking for it. Case in point: Stingy Lulu’s. It was my spot.
Via Vanishing New York
I hung out there a ton circa 1995-97. My good friend S, who I knew from college, and I went there often, usually weekly. We got to know one of the staff members pretty well, Harlow. She was probably the first transgender person I had gotten to know. Her vulnerability was apparent, as was her humor.
S and I were 21, 22. I usually drank a cocktail with pureed strawberries and cheap Champagne. It all seemed so exotic then. I’m trying to find a more original way to say “the world was our oyster” but right now, I can’t. It fits.