"Here's a little gift. From Heather to Heather." Though it may not be the the iconic movie Heathers is something worth cherishing, even if that means you don't go down in flames with Christian Slater. (And while we're thinking about it, he isn't all that cute these days after that bit about sexual harassment on the UES and falling off Paris Hilton's roof.)
Heathers just came into being last Saturday and we stopped in during the week. We found it full of people cozied up to the elevated picnic table, affordable drinks (most beers $4) and bathroom walls- one big blackboard, literally, done with blackboard paint and asking to be written upon. The bar is the baby of another longtime New York bartender and it feels cozy- the chairs came from years in storage while waiting for a space to open up and the framed photos looked like something from an unclassifiable moving box. Because it's still working out the kinks, there are no happy hour specials yet and it doesn't open til 6pm but the margaritas are lovely and fresh and the fried yuca chips are our new favorite bar food.
With no sign out front, the bar has already started to be known for one of it's most recognizable (and gratuitous) decorations. Let's just say that we've been to The Hole, Dick's, The Cock and, on the flipside, Rubyfruit and Cubbyhole but this is the first time we've mentioned another species' genitalia. We half-promised that we wouldn't say it but look for what a grizzly bear's Ob-Gyn would see on the back wall.
Heathers
506 East 13th, near Avenue A
(212) 254-0979
