Solomun, Michael Bibi, and Black Coffee christen the Ibiza institution’s first permanent North American home.
You feel the cherries before you see them. Walking into the old Brooklyn Mirage footprint on opening night, the first thing that registers isn’t the lineup or the guest list: it’s the space.
The clutter of the venue’s last, doomed renovation is gone. In its place: a wide-open, sky-framed dancefloor built for movement, a sound rig dialed in for the long haul, and those two red cherries hanging over everything like a homecoming New York had been waiting a decade for.
This past weekend,…
