The French Dispatch on Bleecker

That’s a whole lotta yellow

A few weeks ago you might have strolled past Whalebone on Bleecker Street in Lower Manhattan and thought “hmm, yellowy.” And you weren’t wrong—it was yellow. But not yellow for no reason, yellow because Whalebone welcomed our home up to the kind folks from the French Dispatch to construct a real-life replica of the cafe from the film.

A vintage pinball machine called Modern Physics flashes different colors at Le Sans Blague, the The French Dispatch takeover of Whalebone on Bleecker
A hand drives a small toy car across a shelf in front of books. On the shelf below a vintage light blue typewriter sits at Le Sans Blague, the The French Dispatch takeover of Whalebone on Bleecker
The corner of a yellow building with a large window. Cafe tables and chairs sit against the walls at Le Sans Blague, the The French Dispatch takeover of Whalebone on Bleecker

It was a little bit of Paris in the middle of New York City. Adrian Brody even walked by it and maybe Owen Wilson even knew about it—unconfirmed. But “wow”, who better than to tell you a little bit more about how the weekend pop-up event went over than our friends over at Accidentally Wes Anderson? Take it away, gang. 


Complimentary café? Croissants? And a bright yellow facade?

The French Dispatch took over Whalebone’s NYC HQ last weekend, and it was nothing short of Magnifique! Fans and curious onlookers alike lined the blocks to get a glimpse inside “Café Le Sans Blague”—the Persian-Esque 1960’s cafe straight out of Wes Anderson’s tenth film.

Jarvis Cocker’s French pop covers bopped from the vintage jukebox while sketch artists in black berets swiftly drew patrons sipping their lattes in the cafe. There were impromptu chess tournaments, a pinball machine made just for the movie, and a gallery from our AWA Adventure to Angouleme—a very real, very beautiful city in the southwest of France where the movie was filmed. 

We’ve got a whole guide to the city and movie scenes if you’d like to take a peek—just don’t blame us if you end up buying a black turtleneck and start smoking Gauloises after diving in.

A Guide to Angoulême, France

By Accidentally Wes Anderson