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It’s true you know!
The ever-steady, always alert eyes of Abigail Kunath Park have once again notated the new MAC store on 10th Street *(just off Bleecker) opening in what used to be an old accessory store (who needs those?) adding to what I call the outdoor mall of America full of Michael Kors (taking over the Olive + Bettes), the handful of RLP’s and of course, Marc.
COMING SOON! A lip pencil within walking distance and your sparkling eye shadow will never be far. A West Village Sephora? Never say never.
Arty project of a bicycle spotted around Waverly and West 4th, June 14th 2010.
Photo by Abbie K Park.
WOW; that was fast! The West Village eyes of Abbie K Park don’t take long to throw down the new banner for MALARMARKET (slated for Fall 2010) taking over the old Baby Buddha space on Washington. If it’s as good (read: unpretentious) as it’s counterpart up the street– well, West Villagers would be in for a real treat.
(Image: Abbie Park)
Well, that certainly didn’t take long. And, yes, the West Village eyes are alive and open today. The artist formerly known as Baby Buddha has been LEASED!! The most prominent and ever-reliable source, APK tells me: The spot is becoming a pizzeria by the same outlet/people behind Malatesta Trattoria, the low-key read: good food joint at 649 Washington. This is a promising bit of culinary news for a nabe low on pizza options.
Other articles on the Buddha, Ripco matter: Bye, Bye Baby. Save Your Baby Momma…, My Own Private RIPCO and Red on RIPCO.
(photo image : Abbie Kunath Park)
Ahhh…The thickness. This Monday mornings photo is brought to you by the eyes of the West Village, Abigial Kunath Park and her sharp humour.
That’s what I’m on as I type this, cold meds after a quick jaunt to Texas. The eyes of the West Village have once again spoken (our good friend AKP) who reports AUTO is the latest to shutter.
Embedded in their farewell email:
Dear Friends, We are writing to let you know that auto has closed. The cost of doing business in New York and the current economic climate has forced us reluctantly into this decision.
“We are reluctant and saddened to close but we know we must embrace change and what lies ahead. As our former neighbor Florent Morellet said, “New York is the city of changes. People forget this is what they love about it.“ As of now we have no future plans to reopen either the store or the website but we promise to keep you informed of our whereabouts should this change.”
THE MESSAGE HERE; DON’T LEAVE IT UP TO THE FICKLE HIGHLINE CROWD, SUPPORT LOCAL BUSINESS.
“Baby Buddah was surprisingly orphaned a year and change ago when Mother Buddah morphed into a branch bank. Now the unthinkable (yet too common) has happened and thanks to the avarice of infamed Gottleib heirs another neighborhood institution has bit the West Village’s cobble stoned dust. If only the young guns held the preservationist honor of their uncle….Such neighborly staples as The Hog Pit and Buddah would remain as savory solutions to our greasy regional cravings. Our sidewalks are lined with giant Ripco billboards screaming, “PRIME RETAIL SPACE AVAILABLE” like etchings on cemetery tombstones.
Bye Bye Baby Buddah. So long to your bizarre window topiary, your orange wedges, your General Tsao. We salute you.”
Abbie Kunath Park was bred on cheese steaks in center city Philly and spent her younger years on the shores of Lake Michigan. She landed in suburban NY just before the 80s hit. Post grad she hopped to the big city landing her first low rent apt on 6th Avenue just across from the famed 4th Street basketball courts and above Dallas Jones BBQ then onto spring and Thompson and her final low rent score on Mott street before marriage, pregnancy and current residence whereTortilla Flats serves as mess hall and childcare center to her two young children.
(image Abbie K Park)
Lovely, piercing words on the now shuttered BUFFA’s Deli by Abigial Kunath Park.
Once upon a time there was a girl who thought she was to waltz thru life all alone….
Daily she’d leave her Mott Street apt, grab a cup of Joe and her subway and head off to work. Stopping by Buffa’s always offered a new experience in organized chaos. Worn neighborhood characters offering their service with a snarkey yet genuine smile and the perfect amount of sarcasm. A soaked brown bag of coffee was more than Buffas had to offer – a sense of community. A diverse set of characters: worn artists, old ladies with big bright hair, working class gents, young fire fighters and younger party types in their respectable employees disguises.
One lucky day in March that all started changing for that Mott Street girl and by May her morning walks to the subway included what was to someday be her husband. Late nights were perfectly completed with morning time eggs of any sort from their favorite diner. Buffa’s staff was among the only neighborhood folk who knew of their romance that early on.
One solo morning she headed in for that cup of coffee and her favorite morning helper said “Hey what’s your boyfriend’s name…Lucky?”
She had just about answered, “Greg” when she realized it was a joke. She grinned and answered back, “I’m the lucky one.”
He said “Congratulations!”
From then on he was only referred to as Lucky at Buffas. St Patrick’s Day was that magical day in March when we had realized that our very casual friendship could evolve as so that guy’s renaming Greg, Lucky was more suited than he knew.
I told that story at our wedding. That was a life changing time in my life and Buffa’s was very much a part of it. So sad to see it gone.
XXOO to Buffas,
Mrs Lucky.
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Abbie Kunath Park was bred on cheese steaks in center city Philly and spent her younger years on the shores of Lake Michigan. She landed in suburban NY just before the 80s hit. Post grad she hopped to the big city landing her first low rent apt on 6th Avenue just across from the famed 4th Street basketball courts and above Dallas Jones BBQ then onto spring and Thompson and her final low rent score on Mott street before marriage, pregnancy and current residence where Tortilla Flats serves as mess hall and childcare center to her two young children.
Lovely, piercing words on the (old) Rice by Abbie Kunath Park.
The now defunct Rice on Mott street was just below my sunny, 5th floor walk-up and hosted a collection of some of the most snotty gals on the LES. So much so that I was forced to quell my constant desire to eat there. Mmm – those yummy rice ball things, Mmmm that black rice stuff, Mmm that orange-colored dressing, Mmmm etc. I cannot believe that memory is so bad that I cannot remember the official names for those delectables. A serious hangover served as the tipping point – nothing could beat Rice treats as the cure…well maybe a Cubano Sandwich from Cafe Habana.
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Abbie Kunath Park was bred on cheese steaks in center city Philly and spent her younger years on the shores of Lake Michigan. She landed in suburban NY just before the 80s hit. Post grad she hopped to the big city landing her first low rent apt on 6th Avenue just across from the famed 4th Street basketball courts and above Dallas Jones BBQ then onto spring and Thompson and her final low rent score on Mott street before marriage, pregnancy and current residence where Tortilla Flats serves as mess hall and childcare center to her two young children.
Lovely, piercing words on the Strip House by Abbie Kunath Park.
Aside from the largest layered chocolate cake I’ve ever devoured the napkin motif is top-notch. So nice that our incredibly discerning friends managed to pilfer an entire set of their high quality Frette serviettes before the establishment switched to a lower quality cotton blend. Love the truffle oil spinach and martinis and atmosphere enough to forget that this resto is part of the same group who owns the Michael Jordan Steak House. The double entendre name is appreciated vis a vis the decor.
Potato Wedges
Po Boys
Picklebacks
The 3 fabulous P’s
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Gleaming, shiny words by Abbie Kunath Park.
