Beyoncé Partied At Miss Lily’s

This is the location I worked at, years after Kanye West had his birthday at Miss Lily’s Soho (read Kanye West’s Miss Lily’s Birthday Bash). Here are a few guests who celebrated with him that evening: Beyonce, Scott Disick & Jonathan Cheban. Make shit up where? Had the idiot haters read what a black woman wrote instead of invalidating me for the same reasons, they wouldn’t be going to hell. The fuck. Everyone who’s anyone knows me (read 2020: The Year The Scale Tipped To Evil).

That place was the Studio 54 of restaurants. Anna Wintour was our nemesis. Chair of the community board, she refused to grant a full liquor license, because of owner Serge Becker. Despite contention with the establishment I earned her approval (read The Elusive Anna Wintour). Anna Wintour making me walk the ice paved sidewalk as a runway, while wearing sky high over the thigh leather boots to get to work, is one of the highlights of my LIFE. A nightmare and a dream. I’m major.

Everyone said Beyonce was an overly generous tipper, having dined there once more outside of Kanye’s birthday. I never met her, but had the displeasure of serving Kelly Rowland and Lala Anthony. The former left less than 10% (read Kelly Rowland And Lala Anthony Are Trash). I also met Solange Knowles and made a fool of myself. Opening my mouth to say hi as she stared dead at me, while sitting outside for brunch, right in front of the entryway. Starstruck, not a sound came out. And yet, my mouth remained open. So embarrassed. Never breaking eye contact, I watched Solange conclude I’m slow.

That being said, if you had the audacity to run your mouth defaming me, use it to fucking apologize. You wouldn’t be here without me or Lewis Dvorkin. You better buy and earn more time, hubris won’t be tolerated, Kali & Shiva. Via: Getty Images

Updated: 11/18/2025 11:58am

Kanye West’s Miss Lily’s Birthday Bash

Just a reminder of two things:
1. Kanye West celebrated his birthday at Miss Lily’s Soho before I worked there. Again our regular clientele were celebrities. Everyone knows me (read Chopped Champion Miss Lily’s Edition). They knew what I was before I did (read 2020: The Year The Scale Tipped To Evil). There’s no need to make anything up, going against these elites doesn’t benefit me. Get a clue.

2. Binn & Genc Jakupi breached contract first, then tried to get my blog posts removed. Using what law firm? The Rothschild’s (read The Rothschilds Funded The Holocaust 2). Thanks to a picture of Naomi Campbell, along with my other evidence, I was able to prove it. Do note, I’ve never said a disparaging word about Meriem Soliman, because she didn’t: invade my privacy, stalk, harass, defame, or financially abuse me for years. The Jakupi brothers 100% traffic people.

Here’s a compilation of Miss Lily’s related articles:
Mick Jagger At Miss Lily’s 2015
Why Mick Jagger Was At Miss Lily’s
Miss Lily’s: You Weren’t Cool Enough…
Where Is Lizzy Jagger?
Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (1/2)
Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (2/2)
Binn Jakupi Stalks Jordan Barrett
Karma Alway’s Comes Featuring Miss Lily’s
Who Is Serge Becker?
My PTSD Diagnosis
Pyper America Is The Shit
Chanel Iman, My Most Regular Regular
I’m the only person telling the truth, the real news. Kali & Shiva Via: Grub Street & Jaquana Cornelius

Updated: 10/18/2025 8:13am

Chopped Champion Miss Lily’s Edition

Like hello, Miss Lily’s was the Studio 54 of restaurants. I remember the viewing party we had for Chef Andre when this episode of Chopped aired. Graceland was packed to capacity, subsequently his career soared. Watching his trajectory before and after that episode was insane! People were coming in hoping to meet him, like what…from obscurity to a star (read Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (1/2). Mind you the executive chef was a white man, but Jamaican Andre was beneath him…make it make sense. I don’t do that racist shit.

My problem at Miss Lily’s is the same I have with these elites, I’m not going to shit on people just to do it. I always stand up for what’s right. Are people grateful, or deserving? The majority aren’t tbh. I’d like to reiterate Serge Becker was the only person who got to me and I was favorite (read Who Is Serge Becker?). He’s an industry legend (I’ve worked for iconic people, don’t try me). Finding out Eric Goode of Chimp Crazy & Tiger King is his longtime business partner makes soooooo much sense. Like I can’t with them.

Serge was the one who made me reconsider doing shrooms and going to that interactive exhibit. “Aren’t families going to be there?” He inquired. Originally my answer was so what, but I had a change of heart. Maybe Anna Wintour doesn’t like him, because she’s a performative activist and he isn’t. The fear I had when that woman made me walk that ice runway, or jump over dirty piled snow…still major (read The Elusive Anna Wintour). She’s literally the last person you wanna see in this situation. I use to have such respect for her, she’s a large part of why my standards are high. Unlike Anna I won’t be yielding to talentless trash. Ima learn y’all, trust. Via: Chopped

Where Is Lizzy Jagger?

At Miss Lily’s 7A location, as the caption and decor depicts. If you don’t know, now you know. It was the Studio 54 of restaurants, our regulars were celebrities.

Lizzy Jagger is at 7A hanging out with Gabija Mitchell, the reason I met Mick Jagger (read Why Mick Jagger Was At Miss Lily’s). Also Anna Wintour as head of the community board, refused to grant the now closed Soho location, permission for a liquor license (read Who Is Serge Becker?). I worked at the latter location, we only served soju, beer and wine. Hence Gabija taking everyone to the East Village to party late. Although no one had drama like Soho, in large part due to me. Julia Fox & Richie Shazam hung out in my neck of the woods at Melvin’s Cafe. If you didn’t know how major it was, it’s because you weren’t cool enough. Perioddddd. Via: FlickR

Updated: 4/29/2024 11:11pm

Binn Jakupi Stalks Jordan Barrett

A quick timeline of Jordan Barrett and I in 2017

May 11th Thursday: Jordan found me running up and down the street outside the restaurant (read Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (1/2) & Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (2/2).
He came to Miss Lily’s to discuss throwing his Frame event. Having already met, we hung out for hours. It was clear to anyone who saw us we were kindred spirits, soulmates, due to our familiarity. People kept asking me, “Do you know each other?”


May 12th Friday: Jordan was suppose to come back. He didn’t, but the place is packed after he posts me all over his Snapchat and Instagram stories. Prior to the free press, the business was dying. Obvi, since the Soho location is now closed. Binn Jakupi, the pathologically lying loser, waits for Jordan Barrett all day, fabricates a story about me, then tells me not to work there. That day I vow to teach them a lesson. And I do.


May 14th Sunday: I’ve already written an email about Binn’s perturbing behavior. I’m scheduled to work this day. Always on time, my co-workers know something’s up, I’m an hour late. Too bad the owners didn’t know me as well, they fire me. Under the impression I’m poorly educated like the others, they don’t realize I’m going to sue the shit out to them. Serge Becker is reported to be glum throughout this entire ordeal, I was his favorite (read Who Is Serge Becker?).
Love Serge, fuck Anna Wintour. She claims he’s scum, but got conned by fake billionaire succubus with no talent. Bitch bye. She failed as a gatekeeper. Wintour is antiquated and racist. Serge took the time to know me, as he’s the opposite of her. Something else happened between them, I’m finna find out…cause the math ain’t mathing Anna.


May 15th Monday: I receive an email to discuss my termination, an attempt to make amends once they realize this was a business meeting. Jordan was going to have Gigi and Bella Hadid host his Frame sunglasses party.
Olatz Schnabel posted this picture of Jordan Barrett, for Binn & Genc Jakupi to stalk him, having no idea who he was prior. Neither brothers have ever had a conversation with me, but thought I was property. Two inbred idiots. Karma has come.
Jordan Barrett held his party at Indochine, after finding out I no longer worked there. Cheyenne Tozzi, one of Binn’s former basic white fuck buddies, lies to Jordan on Binn’s behalf (read Binn And Genc Jakupi Have Zero Remorse).

Olatz Schnabel’s soul was saved by Julian & Vito Schnabel humiliating Melanie ratty Patty Hamrick (read Melanie Hamrick Has No Suitors). That’s always a way to get in my good graces, attack my enemies. Xoxo Athena Photo: Olatz Pajamas

Updated 4/6/2024 12:01am

It Costs To Be The Boss

Two weeks ago my favorite cook got fired. He tried to tell me the day of, a Monday, catching me on the street, but I was late and told him I’ll see him tomorrow. Pedro worked two jobs in K-Town, he was leaving his first job when he stopped me. However, I was focused on relieving the person prior and brushed him off. Indeed I did see him the next day, both of us arriving at the door simultaneously. Giddy to see him, I grabbed his backpack strap, telling him it’s time to work, let’s go.
“Me no work here anymore, mi amor.”
“What? What do you mean?” I asked, perplexed.
”Me finito,” he whistles shortly through his teeth “Finished.”
As I was processing this asinine distortion of reality, I received a message from the manager. Good tidings, Daniel is gone and a new server is coming. I don’t even wanna go into Daniel, he’s gonna be on America’s Most Wanted one day, watch. He does sick things. Since he’s been fired sales have gone up and the ice machine I told them he broke has started working again, after dispensing no ice for months.
Money is energy, Daniel tortured guests with depressing music, or by playing no music at all, stole money from the register, invited his friends to eat hundreds of dollars worth of food multiple times a week, then deleted it sans paying. He was a liar and a little shit.

“That’s great but why is Pedro fired? I need him. He keeps everything together, Tomas and Guillermo are drunks who make the wrong food, sexually harass people and get angry. The chef doesn’t work with them, I do.” Pedro came to pick up his last check which naturally wasn’t there. He called the chef to no avail, having to come back the following week.
He showed up to get his final check drunk and devastated, spilling tofu soup all over himself, passing out, calling his wife then sobbing. I mean truly sobbing. As many cooks as I’ve seen come and go in my less than a year of employment, this is the only time I cared. I started crying with him, while the drunk predatory cook laughed. Pedro apologized profusely to me for not working their anymore, dressed in what was considered his best clothing. The other server Mo and I walked him to the train.

I demanded the manager to tell me why he was fired when we got back. The chef told him he asked Pedro to wipe a plate, he didn’t but Tomas did… Hands down the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard of someone getting terminated. I assured him Pedro doesn’t send out dirty plates, that the chef probably made him nervous. Pedro was the only cook who clocked in early, when the shit for brains chef decided he wanted to save $15 by leaving us without a cook for an hour (this has happened four times, at a fucking restaurant, losing us money when guests leave). Instead of clocking out after 8 hours, he stayed one more, making sure Wendy an elderly Korean woman had a cook until the next one came. Pedro never received overtime payment for doing us these favors like the chef promised. Furthermore Tomas touched my ass. He also came in drunk days prior, sexually harassing the 19 year old busboy, going as far as locking him in the bathroom with him as he tried to clean. I took pictures of Tomas’s hand on his ass, with the busboy pushing him away. Later that same shift Tomas came into the walk in fridge with me, trying to shove my face into his crouch while I refilled bean paste. I fucked that nigga up, but not the way I wanted to. I elbowed him in the stomach and dick. I tower over Tomas, who is short, fat and sloppy. When he gets drunk he becomes angry, uncontrollable, crosses boundaries, gives slow service, vomits, shits, then passes out unable to cook. Leaving the dishwasher, or busboy to take over. All of this including the aforementioned photos were sent to the manager, who sent it to the chef. His response- the past is in the past, eventually all of them will be fired. To which I replied when it happens again, which it will since they’re both alcoholics, I’m going to break his fingers and that’s the least I’ll do. Aka I’m going to sue the shit out of you.

Cut to this past Thursday, the dumb shit. To be spiteful the chef schedules me with both drunks. At one point we have one five top, they ordered two pajeon, a seolleong tang deluxe, and a beef bugogi. Having two cooks this should have been done in twenty minutes, a half an hour goes by without a single dish finished. I go to see what the hold up is, as suspected both cooks are wasted. Guillermo is beyond inebriated. Confiding in the busboy, I tell him I’m not even going to complain since they’re all getting fired. At minute forty I yell into the kitchen inquiring about the food. That’s when I notice Guillermo flipping the pancakes repeatedly on their plates, rather than putting the food up. Not only that, they messed one up and had to start over.
As Tomas makes the new pancake, Guillermo continues harassing the dishwasher, before clocking out early. I tell him to go home, as he’s now out amongst guests getting violent, grabbing kimchi, eating it with his fingers, calling me a bitch, trying to take my phone while I recorded him drunk. I told him to leave again, he refused pushing a guest going to the bathroom at one point. It took everything to restrain myself from beating his ass.
”You’re a girl,” he slurred.
”And you’re 4’2, someone get him out of here before I fuck him up,” all the thieves in K-Town know my schedule. I’m literally security, I’ve kicked many a people out. He just started working this shift, he didn’t know better.
Guillermo saw me, a server, taking shots with one of my regulars, a Chinese mob boss, the day before. He took this as a green light to get lit. Pardon me, you’re a line cook, in no world is you getting wasted while working with fire acceptable. Furthermore I make us money drinking with guests, you lose us money. Lastly, the hierarchy of restaurants is: bartender, server, busboy, hostess, line cook. Know your place.
At some point Guillermo sits down, Mo the male server goes over to him. I call the cops. While this is happening Tomas starts ringing the bell over and over, too drunk to realize how dead serious I was. Mind you, I already dragged his delusional rotund ass when Pedro was fired. In his head he really thought I had a crush on him, I literally said “I deal with celebrities, but I have a crush on short, fat, sloppy Tomas, the broke line cook, the drunk. That’s why I stopped joking with you, but you’re too stupid to notice. I’m gonna learn you.”

The cops show up immediately, Guillermo starts getting handsy. “Don’t get tough with me boy,” one cop says yoking him up. If you ever want to defund the police live in New York City, work in K-Town. 9/11 is the oxygen we breathe, essential. Hold them accountable sure, but get rid of them? Absolutely not.
I notice he has an apple soju, I tell the cops he stole it. He places it in the inner pocket of his denim jacket, where he also has a steak knife. They give it back to me. At that point Mo tells me he gave him the soju, because he was scared and just wanted to get him out of his face…he wasn’t in your face, you went over and asked him what he wanted.
”You’re a foot taller than him, why the fuck would you give him more alcohol when he’s in my face getting violent with people?” You could be many things in New York City, except a punk bitch. All respect I had for him vanished. Not only did you disrespect me, by adding to the problem, you were a scaredy cat and idiotic. Absolutely nothing he would say could justify his stupidity. He hasn’t been here long, but was far too comfortable, too quickly. Bro I’m the only girl on the shift, you’re a grown ass man at 6 feet…how you look?
I let Mo rest knowing he has a second job and this would be a 16 hour day for him, this is how he repays me? When I could have asked to get you cut from the shift entirely; I can do it by myself.
Thank the good lord some of my rougher regulars weren’t there, he would have been beaten to a pulp.

Upon seeing Guillermo escorted out by the cops, everyone realized I’m not fucking joking. I’m your co-worker, not your friend and this isn’t a playground, it’s a business. I’ve never clocked out early, but that day I did after tipping myself out. Tbh no one should have received tip, I made all of it. I let the manager know I’m out. That I’ve worked for Danny Meyer, David Rabin and Serge Becker, that none of them would fire a cook they’ve never seen work without consulting the staff that did work with them. The chef is a joke, I watched Chef Andre at Miss Lily’s go from a nobody to winning Chopped multiple times. There are levels. Who the fuck is he? His menu contributions have been lackluster (he’s new): the old pajeon recipe was better, the tteokbokki is too sweet, people prefer the lettuce with the bossom and the boyang kori tang was better with the clear broth, aesthetically and palate wise. It use to sell out, now people barely order it. His food lacks balance. He makes decisions out of ego, I make them out of what’s best for the business.

Yesterday the chef decided to oversee the kitchen for a few hours, since Tomas the drunk was still employed. Unapologetic this entire idiot made matters worse. The busboy took a tables order attempting to help me, he made a mistake and ended up giving them another tables seolleong tang. Misunderstanding them he thought they ordered three, when they’d actually asked for a sundubu. Having already started eating it I informed the kitchen of the mishap. Rather than make another, the chef physically harassed me, following me, telling me to take the soup from the table and give it to the waiting guest. I said absolutely not, over my dead body would I take a partially eaten soup to a new table. That’s when I knew he’s whacked. This continued for ten minutes.
”In the the time you’ve taken to argue she could have gotten her soup. I need a seollong tang.”
”You crazy, I chef. Get the fuck out of here or I’ll call the cops.”
”You’re gonna do this whole shift by yourself? You need to go back to the kitchen, I need a seolleong tang.”
”I chef, I tell boss. Get the fuck out.”
”Go ahead, because you need to convince me not to sue you. You need to learn the law. You’re literally gonna make the guest wait for one soup?”
He continued to follow me, telling me to leave. I said make me. You need to go back to the kitchen and make that soup.
“What your problem?”
“You’re my problem. Four times you’ve left me with no cook. I’ve never had that happen before, ever, at any restaurant. I tell you not to fire my best cook and you leave me with two drunks, after a sexual harassment complaint endangering the entire staff. You need to go back to the kitchen.”
Having already explained everything to my tables, they asked the chef to go. No one was on his side, which he thought would be the case, because they too were Korean. He finally got the fuck out of my face. I thanked everyone.

The entirety of this negative interaction I’d been messaging the manager, informing him I’m leaning towards suing for retaliation. His actions were inappropriate. I’m assuming the manger explained this to him in Korean, because he finally shut the fuck up after being dragged in front of his kitchen staff. Know the law.
A job is a contract between employee and employer, not a dictatorship. It costs to be the boss, because of the chef’s ignorance of the law and ego I can sue the owner. You received a written complaint about sexual harassment, with photo evidence and behaved in a retaliatory manner with elements of racism. You don’t feel bad for what you put the staff through, you just want to be right. You then assumed the guests would defend you, because I’m black and you’re all Korean. A legal liability, asking to be sued.

Curtain up, is one of Danny Meyers hospitality rules. Meaning when you’re at work you remain professional. Leave your problems at the door for business sake, which the chef did not do with his emotional outburst.
Taking care of each other is his first tenet of hospitality, which I did by protecting the business and staff. Also by being understanding of the busboys mistake, he was trying to be helpful and isn’t fluent in English. The next tenet is taking care of the customer, something the chef didn’t do when berating me, rather than get the guest a fresh soup.
Working for USHG is militant, but for that I’m grateful. It taught me there’s a time and a place for business vs. pleasure, to keep my cool, to enhance the guest experience, to problem solve. For me to get angry in a professional setting takes a LOT. These are lessons that go beyond the service industry. It’s given me an incredible work ethic, as well as discipline. I wish I could say the same for my peers. Know the law, it can change your life.
Guillermo is fired and I booked a flight to join my friend for a mini gate away . I’ll be spending the weekend in one of favorite places a few weeks from now. I know rat soup happened due to me, but I don’t get paid enough for this, nor do I need this job anymore. I do it for everyone else, it’s time to start doing things for me and my mental health. Via: Test Kitchen


Masculin Féminin Ménage À Trois

Spoiler Alert

However I actually want you to watch after reading this to see if I’m bugging out, because no one seems to be mentioning the things I’m searching for. A cinema nerd, an art fanatic in general, I often research articles after finishing a book, or film. I spent the better part of an hour doing the same for Jean-Luc Godard’s masterpiece Masculin Féminin, brilliant, fortifying my belief that French New Wave is the best.
The premise of the movie being Paul, the protagonist, is about to turn 21. After serving time in the army he’s trying to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life. He meets Madeline, a budding chantress, falls in love, moves in with her, Elisabeth, and Catherine-Isabelle, colocs. Now while the latter is secretly in love with him, the former seems to be having an affair with Madeline. Therein lies the confusion for Madeline from what I saw. Except no one even references it. Am I nuts?

Elisabeth and Madeline’s romance is alluded to multiple times, explaining her hostility towards Paul and possessiveness of Madeline:
-When they are waiting on Madeline for lunch, Paul informs Elisabeth that the aforementioned party is pregnant. Elisabeth gets angry, telling Paul he doesn’t know Madeline like she does, that she’s lying to him. The viewer is left dubious, as Madeline starts the film admitting she lies to him. Paul gets angry and asks her, “What’s it to you?,” several times while banging on the table. Probably the only time you see him vexed. Elisabeth doesn’t answer.
In the same scene when Madeline does arrive, she empties the rest of the wine into Paul’s glass, but pours half of Elisabeth’s cup into her own to share. Intimate. Then when Paul is lost in his whistling of Bach, eyes closed, immersed in sonic memories, Elisabeth strokes Madeline sexually. After getting angry with Paul for touching Madeline’s chest to feel her heartbeat. Madeline herself telling her not to get jealous, he has a right.
Tracing her face with her finger tips twice, they stop when Paul opens his eyes. Dramatic irony. The viewer knows something a character doesn’t. Shakespeare’s forte.
– When they go to an erotic movie, Elisabeth makes sure to sit next to Madeline, who leaves a space for Paul on the other side. Seeing this Paul sits next to Catherine-Isabelle instead. Madeline makes Catherine-Isabelle switch with her, upsetting Elisabeth who was practically necking her before Madeline confesses her love for Paul, to Paul.
-Finally, in the last scene the audience finds out Paul dies, mysteriously falling from his new apartment window. Elisabeth and Madeline went to see it, because no one believed him. When Madeline wanted to move Elisabeth in with them he objected, then met his end.
The police question Madeline and Catherine-Isabelle, was it suicide, an accident, or murder? I figured Elisabeth was missing from the interrogation as she was a suspect, since they got into an argument about her moving in. Also she told Madeline to abort the child with a coat hanger. Yet still, absolutely no one mentions this relationship regarding the movie. Which is crazy. Leaving me to wonder why? It’s essential to plot, yet everyone talks about Catherine-Isabelle’s unrequited love for Paul. Did the allusions go over everyone’s head? Am I making it up, or am I just super nerdy and observant (I was a film minor, a focal point of my relationship with Serge Becker, read: Who Is Serge Becker? )?

You watch and tell me. I’ll probably write more on this film, it’s so damn good. There’s so much to discuss. Godard also wrote the amazing script. Urgh, a fucking legend. Three panoramic shots left me breathless (pun intended). I ceased to breathe, memorized, replaying them over and over again. Can you guess which three? Are you going to watch? Did you see what I saw too? Via: Serendipity.TD

Meeting Tremaine Emory

Serge Becker introduced me to a lot of people personally, including the iconic Maripol (read: Serving Looks, Serving Maripol) and Supreme’s creative director Tremaine Emory (then they’d sit in my section for me to serve them). Tremaine, Serge, and someone I can’t remember, came for dinner. When Serge introduced him I had NO idea who he was, or what he did. Tremaine was polite, jovial and instantly took a liking to me, complimenting my look. Perceptual, it was my style and swagger that made him guess I’m a native New Yorker.
“You from here aren’t you?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“I could just tell. I’m a native too.”
“Ahhh that’s rare nowadays,” I replied.
“Yeah it is. Where’d you grow up?”
“The Upper East Side.”
“Oh wow. I’m from Jamaica Queens. You’ve been there before?”
“Yeah, to go to the airport.”
“Never to hang out?,” he asked.
“No, I mean…what would I really be doing over there, if I’m not going to the airport? It’s mad far and there’s not much to do…” I trailed off. Looking back I see why Serge wore a nervous expression, I kind of dissed where Tremaine came from. However my tone and candor sent Tremaine roaring with laughter.
“You right,” he said genuinely doubled over, laughing from his gut. Taking his cue the rest of them followed suit, myself included. Real talk there’s nothing going on in Jamaica Queens, for me to travel hours to hang out in a known ghetto. Like what…

Throughout the night he carried on conversation. He spoke to me as if I known him. I think he, like Serge, was happy that the greatness of New York’s old school, art, socialite, rock n’ roll, hip hop, cool kids, didn’t go extinct due to gentrification. The luminaries, the visionaries, that make this place great, are still being churned out, passing on the culture.
I found out Tremaine is major af during the pandemic, upon seeing him appear in photos with all these people. He left a great tip (unlike some), and I’m honored to have met him. Thank you for calling Kanye the coon out. He is gone, no longer a black leader, or idol, but a soulless vessel. He sold his to the devil, after joining that racist coven (Kardashian Jenner’s, Kekel Kardashian was real). He’s a completely different person now. May we mourn what was, while I destroy what is. Via: Eyes Mag

RIP Jean-Luc Godard

I fell in love with Godards’s work in film class, watching À Bout De Souffle. He was a pioneer of the French New Wave, a genre characterized by hand held cameras, jump cuts, long panoramic shots, on location shoots, close-ups etc… Giving the director more story telling control. As a francophile this is my favorite genre of film. I try to get as much in as possible. I recommend the aforementioned masterpiece and Vivre Sa Vie. Currently finishing Masculin Féminin (let’s see if this ends violently as well), with plans of watching all his work. Rest in peace you fucking icon and complete legend, thanks for the art and revolutionizing cinema. Omg I wish I could speak to Serge Becker about this. Which of his films is your favorite? Via: Film Gear Club

Who Is Serge Becker?

Serge Becker is an integral figure in Manhattan nightlife. In the 80’s he started as a DJ with eclectic taste, being involved in both the punk and hip hop scene. Then he became the art director of legendary nightclub AREA, a major celebrity hotspot which filled the void of Studio 54’s closure. It’s just so crazy, growing up I admired AREA for it’s artistry in invitations and themes, so to work for the person behind it was surreal.
Joe’s Pub, La Esquina, The Box, Miss Lily’s, he’s directed videos for Nine Inch Nails and is now the creative director at the Museum Of Sex.
Personally, I think of him as an interactive artist, since I’ve seen the impact his designs at Miss Lily’s has on people; the way it affects their person, awakens, stirs, loosens something within. No one enters those spaces and leaves unchanged. Soho is easily my favorite: the record tables, record covers as wallpaper, smut plastered on the wall behind the service station, the difference between the front and back of the restaurant. This is why I was his favorite, don’t get me wrong he had a few, but I was most like him. That artsy, erudite, socialite, party, old school glamorous, scandalous, rock n’ roll, about the b.s, cool Manhattanite. A reminder to him that the splendor of New York hasn’t utterly vanished.

Serge is the one thing I miss most about Miss Lily’s. He saw me as a person, not a caricature. While he would ignore most people, literally not saying hi, he adored me. We talked about art, drugs, the social scene. One Christmas he literally brought his prime rib down just for me, completely ignoring Simi the bartenders attempts at conversation.
He didn’t assume anything about me, he asked.

On my birthday he sent shots, champagne and dessert to my party of 15. Probably one of my best birthdays yet, everyone had the best time, no one remembers it. All of us felt we were in a fever dream, probably because the bill was $750 and I kid you not, on GOD, there was $100 TOPS, TOPS, spent on food (not including endless free shots). I kept trying to order a meal, it just didn’t happen. My co-workers were stunned by our ability to drink like fish. We were wasted beyond belief. I got a text the next day from some Italian guy I met on the bathroom line, no recollection. He started off with an inside joke too…awkward af, I didn’t know what he was talking about.
Serge made sure to send me a list of his favorite movies on my birthday, since I was a film minor at one point and we loved movies. We loved art in general, but film was our thing.

Anna Wintour on the other hand abhors him. She’s the reason Miss Lily’s Soho doesn’t have a liquor license, selling soju and sake as substitutes. As head of the community board, her objection was due to Serge Becker’s involvement in establishments like The Box.

I opine something went down between Anna & Serge, crossing paths on the 80’s art scene. No one can convince me otherwise. Anna Wintour as an enemy is major though. Again this is where I met Mick Jagger, our regulars were celebrities. This place was the Studio 54 of restaurants. I saw Anna twice outside Lily’s, three times total in my life.

When I exited on terrible terms, my co-workers reported Serge was crestfallen. Thanks to the complicated nature of things I won’t go into, I had to leave him behind. But, I know he’s watching knowing he was right all along, I’m extraordinary. I’ll never forget our David Bowie moment (read Serving Looks,Serving Maripol), they were friends.

I’m fortunate to be woven into the tapestry of people I grew up revering. It was an honor working for Serge, even when he was playing mind games. Even when he was insanely OCD, like the time he came into Graceland complaining everything was a mess before an event. No one agreed.
“What’s this?”
“What?” Melody, another server and I say in unison.
He then proceeds to pull an entire iron out of nowhere, staring at us. It’s my belief that he planted it behind the couch as a test. Serge always knew I was a star, no one knew I’d be an icon though (as in I conned those hoes into incriminating themselves and emptying their pockets). There you have it the Serge Becker I’m constantly talking about. Via: Aleim Magazine & Gawker