Hot Chicks With Douchebags: The Manhattan Version


Make text smaller Make text larger




Everyone knows that the two marks of a good blog are its ability to make fun of a person or group of people relentlessly and its eventual cultivation into a book. In light of [Hot Chicks with Douchebags], the paperback spawn of hotchickswithdouchebags.com, hitting bookshelves everywhere this week, it feels appropriate to identify local douche spots that should be avoided like the plague. Our totally unscientific study reveals these, the five douchiest places in Manhattan, in no particular order:


[ EQUINOX FITNESS]—the CEO douche
Part of what makes Equinoxes throughout the city so douchey is the fact that working out in old T-shirts and sweatpants feels like breaking dress code. Another part is the distinct judgment passed on out-of-shape people trying to shed a few pounds. What makes Equinox such a haven of douchiness, though, are the I-bankers who want each and every one of us to know just how bad ass they are for working out. Wall Street types congregate to admire themselves in the mirror doing squats and curls, which wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the noises they make mid-set. They grunt. They moan. They pretty much sound like they’re in labor. Of course, there are plenty of hot chicks at Equinox to try and impress with such feats of strength, but no one’s turned on by ‘roid rage. And remember that spin class incident last year when a hedge fund manager channeling the hulk threw a man—and his stationary bike—into the wall for being too enthusiastic? Equinox terminated the victim’s membership.

[ SOCIALISTA]—the pretentious douche
Why is it acceptable for service establishments to refuse service? Socialista, the sort-of new faux Cuban lounge in the West Village, certainly isn’t the first place that’s all about the guest list, but it has one of the most notoriously choosy doormen in the land. Armin Amiri of Bungalow 8 fame is the type of douchebag who will only allow fellow douches with pseudo-celebrity status entrance. Upstairs in the lounge, everyone’s beautiful and knows it. This is a particularly obnoxious form of douchebaggery, as the worst kind of douchebag is the kind who genuinely believes he and his Jägerbomb are better than you. Aren’t Cuban Commies supposed to be all about equality? Start the revolución and boycott Socialista!

[ THE VILLAGE POURHOUSE]—the frat boy douche
Pink polo or blue polo? Popped collar or croakies? Such is the plight of the collegiate douchebag. Decisions like these are often too difficult to make, thus resulting in the subject wearing both collar-popped polos while simultaneously donning the beloved croakies. At The Village Pourhouse, the closest thing the East Village has to a frat house, preppy douches run rampant and drunk and remind us all of what we moved to New York to escape. Why must every white guy with a fake ID and a pair of topsiders flock to The Pourhouse, an oasis with $1 beers, and overwhelm other patrons with Abercrombie cologne and talk of Jack Johnson? Someone please tell these poor boys that being from New England—or dressing the part—does not a cool guy make.

[ HAWAIIAN TROPIC ZONE]—the unlikely douche
Hawaiian Tropic Zone markets itself as something of an upscale Hooters, with bikini-clad waitresses and TVs permanently tuned to sports networks. The problem with a place like this is that it makes perfectly normal men turn into primo douches at the sight of a little ass cleavage. This, in turn, annoys their lady friends, who opt out of the peep show and vow never to return. The result: a three-story sausage fest peppered with waitresses who only feign flirtation to get bigger tips. Worst of all, it’s in Times Square, aka the nexus of exploitative commercialism and overpriced alcohol. It’s heartbreaking watching nice guys morph into hornier, skeezier, sweatier versions of themselves, even if they’re enjoying it. Oh, and there’s a waterfall inside, too. Tacky.

[ MAX FISH]—the hipster douche
The trouble with gentrification is that it breeds bitterness. The Lower East Side’s Max Fish, once a hipster haven before the term “hipster” even existed, got discovered by the masses and its previous inhabitants are pissed. (This isn’t to say that hipsters by their very nature aren’t perpetually irritated by mainstreamers: most of them still haven’t gotten over the fact that American Apparel and that damned v-neck T-shirt are ruining their “individuality.”) Overrunning the hipsters is a serious offense. The yuppies who now make up the majority of Max Fish’s crowd are an obvious clash with regulars who hate conventionalism, who become douchebags in defense of their one-time hole-in-the-wall. It’s a very complicated equation. What it boils down to is a lot of hipsters exuding their own unique form of douchebaggery, one that makes its witnesses feel stupid and uncool for reasons that are not entirely clear. Lay low at Max Fish, and by all means, do think twice before venturing out to Williamsburg(the ultimate hipster douche zone) in any name-brand clothing.

Make text smaller Make text larger

Comments