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“What do you do?” Doorman Matt asked. He used to be a chiropractor, he explained, making a lot of money until his epic divorce. It was to manage (and chat extensively) hundreds of people at the entrance of the Park Hotel. The crowd was there to shop among the ruins, not for cocktails or movie premieres at his party.was in the hotel Closed abruptly in 2020 and never reopened, and its owner, Abby Rosen’s company RFR, stopped paying rent on the ground lease and was evicted. So the contents, from semi-Spanish Renaissance chairs and beds to shoehorns and shot glasses, are being distributed this week by a company called Best Buy Auctioneers. The people in the line that stretched from Lexington to around the corner on East 22nd Street told Matt they were writers and bankers, but they clearly looked like “the old Schnabels.” was a friend from (according to avenue, Nightlife guru Nur Khan, who ran Rose Bar, was seen carrying out the carpet he had purchased, and event planner Bronson van Wyck was spotted looking at the tables. )
The liquidation sale has been going on since Sunday, but rumors were circulating yesterday — ABC7, guest’s guest, tick tockAs the waiting crowd limped forward, I watched movers load U-Haul cube trucks with dozens of bubble wrap-wrapped ramps and side tables. During the first few days of the sale, Matt explained: Someone came and bought $33,000 worth of stuff. Came back and bought another $10,000. If you happen to open a restaurant or inn and like this particular aesthetic, it seemed like an easy way to offer your place. I was looking for Matt pointed out that the crowd was not the usual group of auction troll professionals. He said, “If you want to understand America, you have to go to the auction. Only $50. $100. Watch everything.”
If you really saw everything, what did you see? Most of it was crammed into the former hotel lobby, with two large rooms steadily replenished with furniture from his second floor. The red leather bookshelves, decorated with nailhead studs, sold for $600 each.The shoehorn was $10. There was a lot of glassware and white Royal Doulton china. Nearby were several seemingly unused cast-iron Dutch ovens and a pile of frying pans that had been used almost to death. Anything with the GPH logo was premium priced. Bathrobes were $100 and terry slippers were $50. There were no price tags, so some of those numbers seemed fungible, I had to ask one of the attendants her one of the attendants for the price. Your best shot was probably with Vivia Amalfitano, who was running sales, setting prices, and accepting payments for Venmo.
A couple of longtime residents of the hotel were here to work as sellers, probably out of love for the hotel. One was a fashion stylist, where she lived for four years. “My kids, my dogs, they loved it here. All my clients are here.” After the sale, she said, “I’m probably going to throw myself on the floor.” If you were interested in purchasing furniture worth an entire room, someone might be happy to take you upstairs, but most requests to go behind the scenes were turned down.
It was interesting to see how much nostalgia still exists in this version of the Gramercy Park Hotel that is less than 20 years old. It all started in his 2003, a place that by then had moderately seeded, but declined, as a semi-sleepy cool hangout where downtown music artists might stay while on tour. I was loved. (David Bowie and The Clash did just that, and Hunter Thompson stayed in a room for a while.) It was owned by a single family for decades. jump off the roofSoon after, Abby Rosen and Ian Schrager bought it (not Grand Lease, in anticipation of Rosen’s eventual downfall) and, together with Julian Schnabel, converted 509 old hotel rooms into 185 rooms. Changed to a new room in the room. Super flashy new celebrity backgrounds. (There was also a liquidation sale at the time.) Hunter Thompson was absent. Scarlett Johansson participated. Rosen, which acquired Schrager in 2010, has reportedly had cash flow problems for some time, and the pandemic has really affected hotel operators in the city a lot. was the result of Today was even busier:
By 8 p.m. Tuesday night, the Best Buy Auctioneers crew had cut off the tail end of the line and sent people home. “Tomorrow she opens at eleven,” a portable PA system blared. “There’s very little left inside. We’ll bring more down in the morning.” Staff began urging people to buy it in bulk and leave. But strangely, everyone’s instinct seemed to stay there, picking up what was left, and just looking around the room. (Hotel lobbies are for lingering, even if they’re not working.) The last thing I saw when I walked out was a book dated 1949, randomly chosen as a bookshelf prop. There is a possibility. . Its title is Never Dies the Dream.