Back in the day, 34 video screens, a wall of VHS decks, and a 500-person-capacity club turned 12 West 21st Street into ground zero for nightlife that looked, sounded, and felt like the future.
Private Eyes wasn’t just a place to dance — it was a living, breathing pop-video time capsule, where Madonna dropped by for album-release parties, video jockeys remixed visuals and beats, and the air buzzed with electric possibility.
