The Meatpacking District scene has gotten so crazy in the last couple years that most people I know now choose to stay away rather than deal. There was a time when the outcropping of a few restaurants, dingy clubs and beat-up bars dotted among the wet sidewalks and raw meat smell of the packing companies offered a true grit-of-the-city experience. Not so these days. Now one is more likely to smell Diddy’s new perfume wafting out of a passing limo than day-old dead cow. When was the turning point? Was it the opening of Pastis? The wildly successful little clone of the wildly successful Balthazar. That definitely did not help. I rolled my eyes at the opening shot of Woody Allen’s 2004 Melinda and Melinda as the camera tracked from above the corner entrance of Pastis inside to the conversation at hand at one of its’ tables. And then I kept rolling my eyes through the rest of the movie. Funny that Woody, obviously in love with the old-school bourgeois New York of the 70’s, would shoot at Pastis, it having such a ‘faux-French bistro’ finish. Well, I guess it is something of a stage set already. Was it the opening of Soho House and all the Nicole Kidman sightings that came with it? No, to me the turning point that knocked the Meatpacking District down a few notches on the cool-o-meter was the construction of the garish heap that is the Hotel Gansevoort. A stunning example of early 90’s ‘more-fitting-for-a-suburb’ design. The real travesty of this new hotel though, is that an entire block of grungy turn of the century warehouse buildings and garages were torn down. The authentic ‘urban fabric’, the true glue that holds this area together and gives it its’ stinky allure, was destroyed to make room for this arc-roofed city planning blunder. At least the disappointing Vento in the Triangle Building, or even Soho House, did not tear down any authentic old buildings when they were constructed. Oh well, [sigh], there’s no stopping the steady march of progress I guess.
But on any given night while waiting in line outside of Jean-Georges Asian-kitsched Spice Market, you might see a few people get off the M14 bus, duck their heads behind the collars of their beat-up leather jackets, hurry south past all the new-money pizzazz and take a right on Gansevoort. Actually you might see quite a few people. And this steady stream is what leads me to the real topic of this post - Restaurant Florent.

Located at 69 Gansevoort Street, I was first turned on to Florent by friend and Chicago restauranteur Donnie Madia, of Blackbird, Avec and Sonotheque fame. Years ago, before I had moved to New York, I was on my way here for the ICFF design show. Donnie said, “Dude, go check out Florent”. Off the plane and with time to kill before meeting my friends in Brooklyn, I went straight to Florent. And I have been back countless times since.

The genius behind Florent, yes genius, is the ‘whole’ that is the sum of its’ parts. Florent Morellet, the owner, shows an acute understanding that it is the combination of elements, not any one thing, that make a meal at a restaurant a great experience. First, Florents’ space looks and feels like a 50’s diner… because it was one in a previous life (take note all you ‘faux distressed plaster and pre-smoked-mirror’ types). Walk through the plastic strip cooler curtain into a room of vinyl and aluminum detailing. The diner counter running along one side of the space is great for having a beer while waiting for a table or eating a leisurely breakfast while reading the paper. A full length vinyl banquette runs along the opposite wall with a mirrored strip directly above adding to the ease with which you can see and be seen in this tightly packed room. Above the mirrors, and pretty much anywhere there is wall space, hang maps. Maps of imaginary places…or does that one look familiar?… a couple drawn by Florent himself. The servers, a few have been there for years, have developed an attitude. But it is a witty, good-natured, smug-but-jokey, don’t-waste-my-time-bend-over-backwards kind of attitude. One that, when I find it, makes me think “Ah! This is the New York that I love!” On that first Friday night that I went to Florent, the little room was packed with a large queue at the door waiting for tables to open up but when a good song started playing on the house stereo, a server turned it up and started dancing behind the bar. Never let stress get in the way of getting down. The personality of Florent's atmosphere is further reinforced by the menu board over the bar which always has some sort of list on it, walking the tightrope between political commentary and sentimental city-dweller.
‘Hey! How about Darfur?!’
‘Begin to get anxious about summer plans’
Followed by a running log of Mr. Morellet’s T-cell count.

One other supremely smart move on the part of Florent was to enlist Tibor Kalman of the design firm M&Co. to do the graphic design and advertising. And it is gorgeous. Understated but with wit and happiness enough to conjure fond thoughts of the restaurant when you see the iconic stomach postcard on your fridge. There is a lovely write up by Mr. Morellet under the ‘M&Co.’ tab in the Gallery section of Florents’ website. The most impressive part of this, though, is that Florent understood - and understands - how important every aspect of a restaurant is in creating a total experience. Everything from the food, the design of the room, the atmosphere and servers, to the graphic design of the menus, matches and postcards - all of these things contribute to reinforcing (or confusing) the concept of the restaurant.

Florent has succeeded, amidst all of the changes in the Meatpacking District, in maintaining a wonderful restaurant not buffeted about by the trend-fickle restaurant world. The French bistro-based food, although good, is not so much the draw as is the knowledge that Florent is Florent. A comfortable space, a keen eye for understated design, a rejuvenating dose of wittfull-whimsy and a great crowd of sometimes-unexpected-but-always-lively people. Florent is one of the gems of this great city. And a favorite regular spot for me.