As I was crossing over Park Avenue on Friday night I had that god-awful, Green Acres song stuck in my head – as if I’ve ever even seen that show! I was skipping along, super excited to meet my friend at the newly revamped Mark Hotel on 77th Street and Madison Avenue – I did mention this renovation a few months ago – it is finally open!

The Mark Hotel is an original 1927 building, but the old-school-styled set was recently revamped and merged Art Deco glamour with modern furnishings, lots of marble and beautiful artwork. The Mark turned to renowned French designer Jacques Grange, whose clients have included some of the world’s greatest and most exacting style-setters, among them Yves St. Laurent, Valentino, Karl Lagerfeld and Caroline, Princess of Monaco.
Grange has unleashed the full range of his talents, creating public spaces that engage and delight, and private rooms and suites that calm and soothe. In addition, he not only oversaw and designed furnishings, he collaborated with the Parisian design gallerist Pierre Passebon to commission a host of objets d’art, furniture and lighting fixtures, specially created by celebrated artists and artisans, including Ron Arad, Vladimir Kagan, Mattia Bonetti, Paul Mathieu, Eric Schmitt, Rachel Howard, Todd Eberle, among others.
The hotel has layered one-of-a-kind offerings, including a full service salon by iconic Frederic Fekkai called CHIC by Frederic, a state-of-the-art gym and a restaurant by the famed Chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten, called The Mark Restaurant. On your way into The Mark Restaurant, you’ll pass through the modern, swirling “cloud” bar at Mark Bar. This place is already a staple with the hoity-toity Park Avenue crowd – and soon to be with my crew as well…

Since most of my friends would rather poke their eyeballs out of their skulls with hot needles than hang out with the plastic surgery, Hermes set, I went with a neighbor/old friend of mine who also enjoys the snotty pretentiousness of the UES/Gossip Girl land. I arrived at the hotel first (she’s forever late) and made my way into the slightly intimidating environment. The bar oozes sexiness, serious shopping habits, vanity and sophistication. Everyone is richer, skinnier and more beautiful than you – and all of the older woman there seemed to hate their husbands and clearly only stay with them so they can keep up appearances.

For a minute there, I felt 100% out of place and considered telling my friend that we should go elsewhere. It was a fashion show of couture and rocks. The women at the small, curved-out bar were wearing rings with diamonds the size of my eyeballs – meanwhile I rolled in rocking a sample sale cocktail ring that cost about $2 to make. After removing the garbage ring and sticking it into my coat pocket, I felt the once-over from a group of plastic-surgery science project-styled women in their 40’s at the edge of the bar. I had to stare back – how in the world could you be happy with a botched nose job reminiscent of Michael Jackson?

I stood in the corner of the dark bar by myself (surely someone mistook me for a hooker) and played on my iPhone while contemplating grabbing the cocktail menu. Let’s place a bet – the cheapest glass of wine is $17? Hmm so as I glanced over the wine list, I spotted my number one drink of choice, New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc for … $10! Delighted in my find, I ordered it and felt slightly déclassé since everyone else was drinking Rosé (which I ignorantly equate to White Zinfandel) or top-of-the-line champagne. I scanned the bar as I waited for my friend’s arrival and let her know that she will neither meet her Prince Charming, nor will we be able to snag a seat at the high, white bar. She arrived a minute later and we decided to stick around, observe and hope for an opening at the bar. My Barbie Doll-esque pair of Badgley Mischka 4-inchers were absolutely cutting off the circulation in my big toes and causing the bunion on my left foot to throb with pain. The things we women do in the name of fashion and vanity!

A couple at the bar who looked like they were visiting from a trailer park in West Virginia began scrambling for their check, whipped out a Black Amex (I guess it’s a luxury trailer park) and paid the tab, leaving a spot open at the bar for the two of us. We hopped onto the tall barstools and grabbed the drink menu. The bartender brought over some delicious snacks – rosemary popcorn, wasabi-covered nuts and homemade potato chips. We ate three rounds of said snacks – we really did look classy! The restaurant must not have been all that crowded as the hostesses from The Mark Restaurant constantly approached us, asking if we either wanted to go inside for dinner or if we had reservations. This is never a good sign for a brand new “hotspot”. We told her a few times (maybe she was drunk?) that we’re only there for the bar. Then my friend suggested we try out the Jean-Georges spot – so I suggested she expense the meal. She realized she was being a bit eccentric – when in Rome, do as the Romans – requested the food menu from the bartender, but was rebuffed. You cannot eat at the bar!

After a chatting a bit, observing the obnoxiousness of the Hermes Birkin set, and finding way more women than men, we ordered one more round of wine, paid our tab which was a mere $43 for four drinks – unheard of at a swanky hotel bar in Manhattan – and made our way over to Sant Ambroeus for a bite to eat.

We were the youngest people in Sant Ambroeus and the only females AGAIN who were lacking a nip, a tuck or anything Hermes.

God I love the Upper East Side – and The Mark Bar!