Hung with an ethereal swirl of fine mist, Madrid was absolutely breathtaking last night.
This is Le Instituto Cervantes where the show Invisible City features L.A. artists exploring mythologies of Los Angeles. Daniel Joseph Martinez’s words are draped between the pillars.
At the gilt-y Palace Hotel, me and Wendy Yao (of the delightful store Ooga Booga) show off our martinis in glassware circa 1986.
It’s rather disturbing to come across these legs all over the place, their stiletto heels draped in a white blanket like a dismembered supermodel.
But disturbing in the most delicious way.
Later we asked a taxi driver to take us to a bar where all the art people go called Cock. He took us here. And also, to a place named CATS.
Finally we made it to Cock, where it was so crowded the bartenders refused to make mixed drinks. Also photography was strictly not allowed, but I snuck this one of the lovely Linlee Allen.
It just wouldn’t be Madrid without stumbling into a piano bar at 3am and singing a few tunes like “New York, New York” and “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.” The best part about singing in a foreign country: If you mess up the words a little, no one will ever know.
Many, many more Madrid photos, over here…
