Bemelmans Bar
Sweet, pungent, intoxicating, elegant blend of cigar smoke, expensive perfumes, exclusive men’s colognes. How that 53-year-old bar should smell. And the unforgettable crooning and sophisticated banter of the one and only, tuxedoed Bobby Short. A paragon of style. A raconteur of romance. And a beacon in my life…
Chapter two … Finally
I have been keen for a couple decades to write about my “journey” from my late teens through that one Saturday evening when I finally made it to Bemelmans Bar to take in Bobby Short and the most amazing small crowd in the world. The typical crowd at Bemelmans Bar. The New York and a sprinkling of mostly European glitterati, cognoscenti of all things style and wealth with an innate understanding of their timelessness. Some fashioning the elegance that is generational. And a few displaying the gauche drippings of newfound wealth.
And then the handful of Hollywood uber-elite who lived or always stayed at The Carlyle when in the City. Perhaps hoping to immerse themselves in the intoxicating atmosphere of the place. Be painted with the unique panache of the place.
My first, finally, evening at Bemelmans Bar with Annie, the love of my life.
©2024. Steven J. Manning. All rights reserved worldwide. Any reproduction, in part or whole, in any manner whatsoever is strictly prohibited. Media contact sjmanning@fymc.com.