Why Members-Only Clubs Are Everywhere Right Now

Before I begin this story, I must disclose that much of it was written within the lacquered mahogany walls of Casa Cipriani New York, the 115-year-old ferry terminal turned members’ club next to where the Staten Island Ferry comes into Manhattan. My spot was a corner couch in front of the crackling fireplace, not because the club was a subject of this story but because I’m a member there and I like to watch the buzzing traffic of private helicopters and boats in the harbor. I would tell you about the characters I see in the Jazz Café on Thursday nights (often in sunglasses at 10 p.m.), and what I hear in the sauna on Tuesday afternoons (this town’s private schools are nuts)—I swear, sometimes it’s a full-Scorsese fever dream—but I can’t, because writing about the club’s members, along with baseball hats and photography, is not permitted.