The Diary: The Gentlemen’s Journal New York Fall Dinner

An evening at the The Lowell Hotel’s infamous Club Room to celebrate the new season in New York City

Words: Joseph Bullmore
Photography: Christopher Petrus

“What are we doing here,” Harry Jarman had said, as he stood in front of 20 or so friends on a balmy October evening on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. He was not having a full blown existential crisis (not yet, at least), but was instead welcoming guests to the Gentleman’s Journal New York Fall Dinner — a party that existed for no reason other than 'isn't New York marvellous’ and 'isn't the Lowell lovely’ and 'shouldn't we do a party in New York at the Lowell?’. You'll notice, I hope, that we christened the bash the ‘Fall’ dinner, in keeping with the dialect of the locals — several of whom were in attendance, as it happens: staunch ambassadors on a table positively vibrating with expat English folk.

The private room at the Lowell was the picture of clubbable fun, with a roaring fireplace, trays of biscuity Billecart-Salmon, and the beautiful flower arrangements for which the hotel is quietly famous. Guests included Jonah Hauer-King, George Ratcliffe, Caspar Jopling, Tarker Russell, Marina Hambro, Angelica Hicks, Margot Hauer-King, well as gallerist Emmanuel Perrotin, career Perudoist Orson Fry, dilettante-in-chief Dana brown, designer and Dorian Grey-imitator Fred Castleberry, prep tycoon Jack Carlson, World’s Best Hair finalist Harrison Vail, Breaker frontman Lachlan Cartwright, and Lulu Branth, in a quite excellent red dress. The beef fillet, courtesy of The Lowell’s brasserie Majorelle, was exquisite. Afterwards, it was simply a case of trotting a few ‘blocks’ ‘uptown’ to the comforting English maximalism of Maxime’s for several restorative martinis — which kept any existential crises happily at bay. By the end, the incoming Brits felt almost like naturalised New Yorkers. “Hey, I’m networkin’ here!”