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As women sat amongst themselves in Lavo, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were single looking for men, or having a girls night out (with husbands). As they say we always want what we can’t have, the grass is always greener, and apparently Lavo is always packed with the same sex sitting at tables, mingling with the opposite sex next to them (sitting at tables), drinking, and drinking margaritas. I curiously looked around me, and realized that everyone seated at the front of the restaurant was clearly over the age of 40. With a Samantha Jones type charisma (for both sexes).
Why I envied the 40 something botoxed blonde sitting opposite our table (for her wit) self willingly introducing herself to the two business men (plural) sitting next to her. I pondered about the woman behind the Margarita’s. Do we drink to mask who we are or who we were?
In a city that never sleeps, it speaks enunciatively.
Lavo
Strawberry, whipped cream, yumminess