“How many of these mango margaritas do I have to suck down before this ‘feels right’?”
Fearlessly fending off more innuendo than a dancer at a Vegas strip club, Sarah, Jane magazine’s 29-year-old resident virgin, celebrated her 30th birthday party with friends and family last night at a small bar on the edge of the Meatpacking district in Manhattan. It was the type of gathering that under any other circumstances would’ve set the feminist movement back 30 years. Here, awkward male advances were not only accepted, they were practically required and, thusly, videotaped.
We briefly huddled by the bar with editor Brandon Holley, Radar‘s Jeff Bercovici and Gawker mascot and 92nd Street Y guy Andrew Krucoff before retiring to the comfy lounge quarters to debate the finer points of East Coast surfing. By the time we sought out the virgin, she was gone, but her sister not a virgin was there. Her parents? “They’re back at the hotel doing what she refuses to do.”