NYC Nights: Crashing Penthouse Parties

New York, New York! The concrete jungle, the Big Apple, the City that never sleeps because we're too busy eating dinner at 10:30 and dancing on tables til daybreak to let it. One of the best cities we’re ‘based’ out of, New York City has surprises around every corner, homeless peeps, smelly trash, for-no-reason parades, you name it NYC prob does it best. In Manhattan, for two single girls, there's really nothing better than drinking overpriced cocktails you can't afford and sneaking into hotel penthouse parties that overlook the little island.

So when you’re already on the 18th floor, the code word sounds something like 'key-oh-ko,’ and your bestie is waiting for you with a bottle of stolen Dom, there’s very little that can stop you from entering (be a better doorman next time Sully) and being the life of this private party. Just because we’re wearing outfits from Forever 21’s/Charlotte Russes’s/H&M’s new line and one of us is trying to pass off a makeup bag as a ‘cute clutch’ doesn’t mean we’re not billionaires or heirs to the billionaires throwing this party. The key to ‘pulling it off’ and sneaking in to any party, concert backstage, tour bus, or bar mitzvah is usually a numbers game. Sure, you’ll look more legit pretending to be a C list celeb if you’ve got a crew with you, but if you’re trying to sneak into more ‘intimate’ functions, such as Glenn Close’s Family Reunion, who will notice two blonde girls drinking half the alcohol and posing in the group shots? (Glenn please DM us those pics).

Trust us fans, a few peeps may go unnoticed at a party, so keep your crew lean for those sneak-in moments guys.

This private party at the rooftop/penthouse floor of a hotel I cannot name in a cobblestone district of New York I refuse to say was one of those times to keep it lean. So of course, we didn’t. A loud Australian, a redhead, some girl who refused to shutup about Napa, and a few more ‘unique’-ly dressed characters made up our crew that night.

We can’t say who we saw or which heir to a famous French watch-maker we insulted, but we can say that after one two many drinks from the open bar, and a few of the asian waitresses witnessing some things by our group we legally can’t disclose, we were asked to leave “before security was called” #leaveusaloneSully. The rudest part about the gorgeous blonde man politely asking us to leave was that he knew #forafact we weren’t materialistic social-climbers like the rest of the quiet and well dressed bores on the guestlist. Think about it HANS, we didn’t even ask ONCE what the party was for, who/what it was benefitting, or mingle/network with any of the well-to-do flounder-fish looking 1 percenters, it was a party and we partied. YOU’RE WELCOME. I mean, for all he knew we were the actors and actresses hired to liven up the party and pretend to be interested in the watches or whatever men’s wrist jewelry item everyone seemed to be gabbing about. (We wouldn’t know we refused to listen).

If anything, this post serves as a big Thank-You to HANS- if that’s your REAL name-for kicking us out. If we had stayed any longer, had any more free bottles of Dom, let our stomaches sit with raw fish chasers in them and had to listen to one more f%$#@(! story about NAPA, we literally would’ve been FORCED out of pure boredom to dance on the bar tables, makeout with Sully, and/or lock ourselves in the bathroom to have a screaming contest to hear the marble #echoacoustics.

So with as much panache and giving Sully the same smoldering you-can’t-stop-us glare as when we arrived, we ditched this party full of watch donkeys for the next best thing, or as you probably know by now, another event we were #NeverOnTheList for. After all, free (stolen) Dom and slimy fish at a penthouse are what we call a pregame peasants, so stay tuned. XOXO