A New York Celebrity: Who Cares?

By - Kyle Dowling

In my mind it is without a doubt the finest section of this city. It’s hip, fashionable and not too over-the-top. Your basic jeans and t-shirt is fine for nearly all of the eateries. Well, most.

Welcome to Tribeca.

On this afternoon I sit in Locanda Verde—an energetic restaurant located on the corner of Greenwich and North Moore. Its feel is vibrant, exciting and most definitely intriguing. It seems whenever I pass this place all I can see through the large, elegant windows are crowds of smiling faces. Perhaps it’s the food, maybe even the establishment itself but something keeps their faces smiling. It should also be known that the restaurant sits as a part of the famous Greenwich Hotel—a boutique hotel owned by none other than Bobby D himself… Robert DeNiro.


A true New Yorker he is. The man loves Tribeca. Hell, I hear he even lives in this part of town, this neck of the woods. However, today the owner is nowhere in sight. But I assure you this; somebody is here. Somebody has ventured into the restaurant this afternoon to nourish in the wonder that is the food of Locanda Verde. The slew of paparazzi just outside the door, fifteen feet from my table, allow me to make this assumption.

Together they stand huddled with winter coats and hats as the snow slowly trickles down on their shivering skin. Surely whatever celebrity sits inside this place knows this, and I can only surmise that their attitude is a simple: “Fuck them.” Can you blame him? Yes, it’s a him.

Outside of these walls he is whoever the public perceives him to be. Yet in here?
No one cares.
No head spins.
Nobody drools.

A celebrity in New York City is the equivalent of watching a derelict pick through a garbage can on 5th avenue near Rockefeller Center… nobody notices, other than tourists.
Look away visitors.
Take in the sights, the surroundings!
There’s much more to look at than the beggar. Sure, it might be an odd and cruel analogy but still… it is the truth.

People sometimes go homeless. A tragedy is what that is. And people sometimes—often less—gain so much success that they hold the heavy title of ‘celebrity’ over their heads. Well, a tragedy is what that is as well.

But in New York, who cares? This is not Los Angeles; this is a city of intellects and hustlers… and of doers. That celebrity I see twenty feet from me? He moves, eats and laughs just like I do, just like you do.

Truthfully, he even urinates like the rest of us.
Trust me. He and I were urinal neighbors in the downstairs bathroom just a minute ago.
He seemed like a normal bathroom-attendee.

Yet while I and the other New Yorkers around might not care of his accomplishments or the fact that we all share a liking for fine dining, one thing is certain: he can play guitar, sing and scat much better than the rest of us.