The more crowded the place, the lonelier I feel. I can't think. I can't talk. I can't feel.
I prefer most the tranquility of the Cafe Carlyle in the evening most when the ivories tickle George Gershwin or Cole Porter, the candle light is soft and shimmering, and I am with a most fantastic woman (A Garbo.. after a few drinks :)) and be mused and amused. I used to write poems for the woman/women I sat with after our excursion to the Met or the Frick. With a glass of martnini.
So sultry, so sexy, so comfortable, elegant and pleasant. So civilizing and sublime. My vanity then afire kissing an aurora boreaulis in my imagination. Bacchus floating on the ceiling with a smile with a pride of his Macedonian leopards licking his ears, Apollo resting on his bow with his gathering of Cupids (shoot that poison arrow!), and Monsieur Baudelaire, Baudelaire!, alone, chasing the dragon with a lazy eye fixed on my garden of Babylon.
T'is/was Halcyon.
About Me
Know Thyself and To Thineself Be True
LORD GORING. You see, Phipps, Fashion is what one wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other people wear.
PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.
LORD GORING. Just as vulgarity is simply the conduct of other people.
PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.
LORD GORING. And falsehoods the truths of other people.
PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.
LORD GORING. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself.
PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.
LORD GORING. Just as vulgarity is simply the conduct of other people.
PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.
LORD GORING. And falsehoods the truths of other people.
PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.
LORD GORING. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself.
I, Von Kwon
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4 comments:
I heard Mabel Mercer sing in that room. She was already almost 80 I believe, and had little or no real "voice" left. But oh could she sing!! Her interpretations of "Just one of those things" and "Matelot" were ineradicable.
More recently I had wonderful experiences there with Barbara Cook and, of all people, Judy Collins. It was almost fifty years ago that I first bought Judy's records, and she is surelt no longer young. But she still has a real radiance in her voice (and in her incredible eyes) that makes you forget how long it's been since you first heard her sing "A maid of constant sorrow." To hear her sing it now, after so long a time, is almost like the first time you heard the final repeat of the "Aria" in the Goldberg variations.
Barbara Cook, of course, is in a class utterly by herself.
I think they've added quite a few seats in the Cafe Carlyle, however, and I find it neither so spacious nor so serene as you do, Fred. Actually, I find it, well, crowded. But it's worth it see such artists in a relatively intimate space.
It's amazing how these older people can still belt out tunes. So amazing.
Gosh, I haven't seen Barbara Cook nor Judy Collins. I, of course, know who they are. Lucky you that you have seen them both.
Btw, I was thinking more of the Bemelmann's Bar as a serene place. But the Cafe Carlyle proper in it's intimate way is so civilized that it qualifies in my mind as tranquil in that sense. I like both spaces and ambience. You have wonderful taste.
The Bemelmans Bar is definitely a special place. I remember in the late seventies and early eighties, Barbara Carroll used to play there.
She was sort of a low-rent no-cover alternative to Bobby Short, who played in the more famous and far more expensive Cafe Carlyle.
Carroll, now well into her 80s, still plays, but is now much more of a headliner. I saw her last year at the Algonquin, and she was marvelous.
And of course, the Ludwig Bemelmans mural of Central Park is a delight. A waiter there once told me with great pride that it is the only Bemelmans mural to be seen in public in all of New York. He was also the first of many waiters to point out Bemelmans' most famous creation, Madeline, frolicking with her friends in the Park.
In some ways, I prefer the Bemelmans work in the Bar to the Vertes in the Cafe.
I am free on Tuesday afternoon. A poem would be nice.
Best,
Garbo
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