After The Show

While a bougie Park Ave penthouse sounds nice, we're more than happy to party at PUBLIC Arts in clothes inspired by one, instead.
Peep some photos from the after-party, below.
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While a bougie Park Ave penthouse sounds nice, we're more than happy to party at PUBLIC Arts in clothes inspired by one, instead.
Peep some photos from the after-party, below.

The budget was $15k. We laughed about it, but he was serious. Eventually, they found the bag: a deep, earthy red. The kind of red that doesn't announce itself, it just is. Right. It ended up closer to $17K, but Eddie didn't flinch.
I'll admit I wasn't sure I personally understood it, spending that kind of money on a handbag. But he explained it with a clarity that I've been thinking about ever since. "I love gifting my wife," he said. "Spending time finding the right thing. No matter the price, almost, prioritizing her and putting in some effort to show her that I listen and I choose her."
He chose her. That's the line that stayed with me.
The context makes it funnier and sweeter in equal measure. The Knicks won Game 4 over the Cavs last week and, he revealed with the delivery of a man who has fully accepted his fate, she locked him out of the house. He was grinning when he said it. This wasn't an apology bag or a reconciliation gesture; it was a love language. Her love language. She has boots, he told me. "Her putting on her boots in the bedroom, that's love for me." They've apparently worked out a system. The Finals are coming. The bag felt like the right time.
We walked after, past Baohaus on our way through the city. His restaurant, his house, the place where the whole story started. It's the East Village hangout where foodies, stoners, and students come to stuff their faces with delicious Taiwanese street food late into the night. He noticed one of his staff members looking anxious and paused to quietly explain what might be going on with him, reading the situation, naming it with care. It was an offhand moment, the kind you don't perform for a journalist. It told me everything.
Eddie is one of those people you can't help but like. Not because he's performing likability — the opposite, actually. He's energetic without being exhausting, funny without needing to be, sharp about the world and genuinely warm about the people in it. He built a food show, opened restaurants, wrote books, and still has the emotional bandwidth to notice when one of his guys is having a rough morning.
His new novel, Come Undone, arrives June 16th. From the bestselling author of Fresh Off the Boat comes a subversively funny and surprisingly moving rom-com about a haunted manchild's twisted search for love. The protagonist, Hubie, hosts a traveling food show, works with his best friends, and samples the best the world has to offer, but treats his romantic partners as courses on a tasting menu with one rule: three months and it's over. It's autofiction wearing its influences openly, the literary mode that suits Eddie best: personal, digressive, mercilessly honest about the mess of being a person who wants connection and keeps finding new ways to complicate it.
It tracks. The man I spent an afternoon with is someone who has clearly done the work of figuring out what love actually requires: effort, attention, and specificity. Knowing that your wife's astrologist said warm and earthy. Knowing that boots are the language. Knowing that a $17k red bag, chosen carefully on a Saturday at The RealReal, is not extravagance. It's a sentence in an ongoing conversation.
By the end of the walk, it felt less like an interview and more like two people who'd probably end up doing this again. I'm definitely stopping by Baohaus soon. And I have a feeling the Knicks aren't done making things interesting in that household.
Come Undone by Eddie Huang is out June 16 via One World/Penguin Random House.

For the 2026 season, Il Capri deepens its vision of Mediterranean living with a major expansion centered around wellness, dining, and nightlife. The hotel’s former restaurant and terrace have been transformed into the Il Capri Athletic Club, a 300-square-meter wellness sanctuary overlooking the Gulf of Naples. Designed as both retreat and social space, the program includes daily movement classes, yoga, breathwork, pilates, and immersive wellness residencies led by visiting coaches throughout the season. Alongside the new club, the hotel introduces a spa collaboration with Irene Forte, bringing botanical treatments and science-backed skincare rituals into a softly textured treatment space inspired by the island’s natural palette.
Elsewhere, the property leans further into Capri’s duality between stillness and excess. Osteria delle Sirene, the hotel’s new rooftop restaurant created in collaboration with Neapolitan creative Giotto Calendoli, channels coastal mythology through blue-and-white interiors, seasonal Campanian dishes, and panoramic sea views. Downstairs, Rumore the hotel’s underground nightclub directed by DJ Pascal Moscheni offers a sharper counterpoint, hosting late-night sets from international DJs throughout the summer. Together, the additions position Il Capri less as a traditional hotel and more as a fully immersive Mediterranean world built around pleasure, atmosphere, and escape.

Sukeban makes a nod to the 1970s girl gangs of the same name, formed in response to the male gangs’ refusal to accept females into their juvenancy. At their peak, police sketches of these juveniles could be mistaken for fashion illustrations, depicting their brightly colored hair, thinned brows, cropped school uniforms, and lengthened skirts tagged with feminist symbols/anarchist kanji slogans which could conceal cigarettes and weapons. Sukeban blends this culture-defining fashion with the flashy costuming of wrestling. The theatrical components of both fashion shows and wrestling matches are heightened when combined, making for the most captivating drama. Filled with expressive faces, kawaii accessories, couture wardrobes, clever stage names, and explosive brawls, Sukeban is a performance that spearheads a new era of entertainment.
The event introduced female wrestling to the Hammerstein Ballroom, which has notoriously housed matches since the 2000s. The ballroom was transformed into a New York City-themed battle scene from the likes of Street Fighter, with the iconic orange and white steam funnels and traffic cones of the city decorating the floor. The hand painted angels of the ballroom — which was drenched in hot pink lighting — ceiling watched down on the red carpet that led up to the ring. The first stable to strut down the runway were the Cherrybomb Girls in custom, hand-embroidered Nike robes. Tokyo Toys came out next, with Krackin’ Kouki dressed in her staple couture nutcracker getup consisting of a Miss Claire Sullivan tutu and SoftSkinLatex jacket, winding up a gigantic toy box that Smash in the Box popped out of. The girls put their accessories to the side and got down to the nitty-gritty almost immediately; they tumbled, flipped, hit, and kicked in a seamlessly orchestrated tango. It was a choreography similar to that of the ballet — a testament to the extremes of the bodily movement, encapsulating all gruesome and grace.
As the next round of fighters from Cherrybomb Girls, Tokyo Toys, and The Vandals roughhoused in the ring, professional boxer Claressa Shields made a special appearance and KO’d Supersonic, showing the Harajuku girls how stateside women get down. Next, the spotlight pivoted to the crowd, where on opposing balconies The Harajuku Stars faced off Dangerous Liaisons. They made their way down to the ring but the fight leaked over to the red carpet. The girls got nastier, pulling hair and stuffing each other into construction barrels. After the stage was cleared of the glitter shed like blood, the crowd was treated to an intermission of niche Japanese youth subculture from the grungy geisha rapper Molly Santana and the Uru-Hara yo-yo boys. For the final battle, previous Sukeban World Champion, Ichiko Sayaka, defended her title in a close duel against the Queen of Hearts. Just as she hugged the belt to her chest, every stable stampeded into the ring. It was a cartoonish flurry of neon, latex, sparkle, ruffles, bows, braids and pigtails — a once-in-a-lifetime view to witness on par with a wonder like the northern lights. The stadium went black and the satisfied crowd dispersed, but rumor has it The Vandals, Cherrybomb Girls, Tokyo Toys, The Harajuku Stars, Dangerous Liaisons, and Stray Cat are still rumbling like tumbleweeds over the Drgaon-emblemed belt.