That handsome devil is a man of many proverbs and thoughtful drinks. Screwhound?
Nick Haramis
December 27, 2007
There is no such thing as a lousy or attitudinal bartender at West Hollywood’s clubby Chateau Marmont, that castle on Sunset. Each has his own charm, sense of humor, looks, style—from Fred, who hails from Chicago and can crack his neck like a carnie; to Stinson, a Southern charmer with a gift for prose. So it’s hard to single out Robert Floyd, Florida-raised, 37. But the guy is something of a superstar at making people relax and enjoy the show. His aw-shucks good looks, though, are a beard for his off-kilter humor. And while you’ll never hear him talk about it, he was mighty fine as Cassio in a Hollywood production of Othello. But at the Chateau—as the Santa Anas roll in at dusk, blowing the tiki torch flames and ushering in eucalyptus breaths—it’s more like A Midsummer Night’s Dream. And Floyd? Its resident Puck.

Three-figure champagne and $12 mini-bottles of scotch? What else would you expect from the room bar in the Upper East Side’s fabled
Clockwise from top: La Prairie Silver Rain ($135) and Cellular Luxe Lip Color in Pink Sapphire ($55), Chanel Fine Jewelry Trio Ring ($20,000), Serge Lutens Louve ($135), Van Cleef & Arpels Drape de Diamants Necklace ($2,733,500), Asprey Corkscrew ($600), Prada Infusion d’Iris ($90), Hermés Martini Glass ($210), La Prairie Cellular Treatment Foundation Cream Finish ($95).
American artist Walton Ford is perhaps best described as Audubon on acid. The naturalist-gone-nuclear’s intricate, dazzling, and sometimes disturbing watercolors might be mistaken at first glance for antiques-until you notice some of the animals are engaged in sex acts, cannibalism, or other supposedly “unnatural” behavior. Ford’s outsized talent gets a suitable forum in an opulent, signed, limited-edition volume, Walton Ford: Pancha Tantra (Taschen, $1,250). Scrappy New Yorker scribe Bill Buford provides the text.