Richard Magat, Man in Manhattan: Without Reservations at the Polo Bar

By Richard Magat
Aug. 19, 2015: Neither great wealth nor star-studded celebrity will guarantee you a prime-time reservation at The Polo Bar, the hottest new restaurant in Manhattan. As observed in New York Times, "It became the kind of hot place where even knowing the secret email is no guarantee of booking a table any time soon or even a seat at the bar."
"Pretty gatekeepers shoo tourists away from The Polo Bar's portals, standing guard with reservation lists studded with famous names and iPads bearing photo cues for identifying the kind of people too busy being powerful to bother cultivating face recognition," the review continued.
The Polo Bar is the latest iteration of the billionaire clothing czar Ralph Lauren, whose Polo logo adorns shirts, coats, blouses, etc., throughout the world. "The designer decreed that his restaurant feature the simple foods he favors," including "a fatty delicacy remembered fondly from his borough [the Bronx] boyhood," continued the reviewer. "'When I was a kid,'" Lauren reminisced, "'you could get a great corned beef sandwich downtown. . . . I suddenly thought to myself, I haven't had a good corned-beef sandwich in a long time. Let's work on that.'" The Polo Bar's $22 corned beef sandwich is "true to its roots in a city that . . . once had 1,550 registered kosher delicatessens."
Though neither wealthy nor celebrated, I decided to try for a reservation at The Polo Bar invoking the fact that Mr. Lauren and I attended the same high school, the storied DeWitt Clinton in the Bronx. He was Ralph Lifshitz at the time, and I did not get to know him because the school was so large (5,000 students, including James Baldwin, Richard Avedon, and Richard Rodgers).
When I phoned and mentioned that Mr. Lauren and I had been classmates, the gambit did not register. The receptionist did not ask for my name or the time I wanted the reservation for. I was told to call back the following day. I did, several times, and got nowhere.
I had much better luck when I phoned for reservations at a dozen Bronxville restaurants. Even the upscale places obliged, and the eateries that said they did not accept reservations said I was welcome anyway.
Photo by N. Bower








