The most exclusive attic party ever. Sneak past socialites and up the stairs of Cippy’s into a secret jet-set society you always knew had to exist somewhere. Newly renovated to generic-slick standard, with biege walls, loungey pillows, fireplace topped with a bull statue. Pull up in yer Maybach and spin off into orbit. Assuming you’re a member in good standing, that is, and you know the secret handshake. We’ll never tell.