In 1994 Megan Kinney opened her first MEG shop in NYC’s East Village. Her locally manufactured, independently-owned fashion label is designed and operated exclusively by women, and sales often go to support causes that affect the lives of women and girls here at home and also abroad. The shop on N 6th Street in Williamsburg, also serves as Meg’s design studio, so patterns for future garments hang along side current collections—giving the space the warmth and appeal of an artists’ workshop. And it’s not uncommon to discover Meg, a ray of Brooklyn-sunshine, herself working away or chatting with her adoring customers. MEG’s enthusiastic staff will always go to great lengths to make you feel like you’re buying a custom garment. Their trained eyes make certain that every seam sits in just the right place or off to their tailor it goes—and POOF! suddenly you have a little taste of local couture in your closet.

This is a hot spot for plant enthusiasts. A recurring L.A. pop-up where the employees can tell you as much or as little as you want to know about cacti. Marco can tell you about the trees. Must visit, but only open April/May - September/October.

This burlesque club contains a stripper pole, but is hardly worth it unless you know someone who will hook up drinks.

It starts when a friend implores you to eat downstairs at La Esquina, the subterranean brasserie branch of Derek Sanders's Mexican axis of Kenmare Street. The food’s cheaper and probably better at the walk-in-only cafe around the corner from the restaurant’s entrance—a door disguised by a taqueria counter and a sign that reads “Employees Only”—but there’s a certain category of New Yorker who thrives on having what others don’t. A reservationist will ask you if you’ve “dined with us before,” and in general, it takes knowing someone in the industry, smooth talking, or (velvet-rope flashback) looking good and confident at the door, to waltz in at prime time. The reward is dining in a Mexican dungeon as styled for a Vogue shoot, complete with metalwork, distressed stone walls, and water dripping on the back of your neck (though the owners can probably thank the air conditioner for the added atmospherics). Making up the grinning crowd at secluded booths and in private cells (?): a healthy mix of models, cougars, and maybe John Mayer picking his way through red snapper ceviche, cauliflower and avocado taquitos, grilled octopus tostados, or a plate of tuna tartare with a tamarind glaze. If the food sounds light, you’re right; it’s playing to the delicious crowd.  This is, what "The New Yorker" wrote about this fantastic place!

"Mills" is my local bar, I live in that block, it's an old horse stable (for two horses) it's tiny, cozy, great drinks, food is great too - in the summer you can sit outside