KNICKS IN FIVE

For one night, the greatest party was on the streets of New York City

My friends in New York have been telling me that Dimes Square is cooked—that last little triangle in lower Manhattan where you could fuck around and catch a vibe is now running on ashy fumes like a bong that’s been cashed. I was told that the outdoor tables by Clandestino where Eckhaus-clad art hos used to get drunk have been conquered by the Alo Yoga l…