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I could buy like ten
pairs of pants for the price of that beer! That remark wouldn't be
far from the truth in this here garment district, where very small
immigrant ladies burn the candles at both ends to churn out service-industry-quality,
highly-flammable pantaloons. Who do you think sewed all those lovely
sequins on that celadon top? Probably the health-insurance-deprived
spouse of the guy washing the dishes at Stitch. Damn them for taking
those great American jobs! While they are toiling, we are drinking
six dollar pints of yeasty water and enjoying the swanky expanse of
this loungey bar. Mark this as yet another place at which I should
have eaten, but didn't. I watched as others gobbled appetizers and
I talked with my hands and stood drinking some sort of brew from Holland
or Ireland or Drunkland without so much as a morsel. A total jackass
move, of course, and bound to get me in trouble either that night
or in the morning when I have to explain mystery bruises and another
tattoo to the old lady. I didn't end up venturing far beyond the front
of the bar, but the space looked pretty cool and conducive to mid-sized
groups with its high ceiling and what I believe are several rooms
beyond the front bar area. There are plenty of TV screens for your
sports enjoyment and loud music for the hearing impaired. The place
got pretty packed, but there was a playoff game going on at the time,
so I can't be sure if the after-work crowd is quite so robust on a
typical weekday. There honestly aren't a ton of bars in this 'hood
that don't kowtow to Port Authority drunks and Union henchmen, so
Stitch is definitely a cut above. Get it? That was a shmata business
pun. Regardless, I'm not sure it's somewhere I would have my wedding,
which is a service they claim to offer on their website. The place
did work well for groups and seemed to have a decent vibe for a Midtown
after-work-type joint, so maybe I'll give it another go--and remember
to eat a damn quesadilla or something this time. [MF]
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