Stereo

Time’s winding down out at the Hamptons, and every Tom, Dick and Mortimer is smoothing out his Egyptian-cotton towel for one last organic-weenie roast while you’re…left behind. Let ’em have their $25 million swatch of beach; you’ve got the isle of Manhattan at your disposal. Fake a six-digit tax bracket with these soon-to-be-depopulated Hamptonsy haunts—all perfect for when you’re flying solo.

Start at the Zen-tranquil Sava Spa (211 Pinehurst Ave between 185th and 187th Sts, 212-543-0008), an uptown getaway for the stinkin’ rich and curiously famous. Uma Thurman, Kyra Sedgwick, Trudie Styler and, of course, Sting have all paid visits to aesthetician Joanna Czech. You should too. Doors open at 9am on Saturdays, when guests are wrapped in cashmere blankets and served cappuccino. Sign up for one of Czech’s “quickie” packages, which feature all the love at half the price. But skip the Brazilian—who’ve you got to impress?

After so not looking at the Page Six spagoers, embark on a solo tour of celeb-infested Fire Island. There’s Ally Sheedy’s beach house! Ooh, and Ethan Hawke’s sailboat! Get there by hopping a ferry from Bay Shore Terminal (99 Maple Ave, 631-665-3600) to Ocean Bay Park, home of Flynn’s party-till-you-puke outdoor bar (260 West Main St, 631-583-5000) and a bicycle-rental service (Ocean Bay Park Recreation, 631-583-9561). Indulge in a colada on the pier, or slow-bike east from hamlet to hamlet until you hit the desolate, underdeveloped stretch between Watch Hill and Smith Point. Here, you can shed your threads without frightening women and children.

Back in the city, while your pals in the Hamptons are waiting eons for a table at Nick and Toni’s, dinner is already served at Simon Oren’s brand-new Charolais (neé Côte d’Or, 225 Varick St at Clarkson St, 212-727-2775) in Tribeca. The restaurateur behind Café d’Alsace, Marseille and Nice Matin has designed Charolais with lone wolves in mind. “We have a big bar and a number of one- and two-top tables,” says hostess Tessa. “In fact, we’ve already had a number of single diners in just today.”

The unwritten rule of nightclubbing is that you can’t go it alone: A handsome throng of wingfolk is critical in the quest for booty. Not so at Stereo (512 W 29th St between Tenth and Eleventh Aves, 212-244-1965). Despite its location on Bottle Service Boulevard, it’s more street than your average Bungalow 8. Like, any minute now, Grandmaster Flash is gonna rip one of those old-school boom boxes off the graffed-out wall and start droppin’ with members of the FX Crew. Here, the hip kids dance alone, break-dancers pump it up, and pumps are a must if you’re stargazing from atop a fancy suede banquette. Bonus bragging rights: Stereo’s got a sister club in the Hamptons with VIP helicopter service. Don’t let your gutter pals catch wind of the faux-urban digression and you’ll be just fine.