g i r l h a t t a n

g i r l h a t t a n

Monday, June 13, 2005

here's what happened.

so here's what happened.

friday night i'm at home, getting dressed, sort of jumping up and down and listening to mcr and fatboy slim and upbeat tunes like that.

i've got on my black is the new black t-shirt and wide-leg pinstriped trousers and my mexican cowboy belt made from a dead white cobra, a feather in my hair and my eagle ring. some pseudo-indigenous-peoples makeup and i'm out the door.

i get on the F train and meet hrh at the bway-lafayette stop. we ride up to 57th street and go to this club called frederick's. it's a party for seven new york, the fashiony store that carries avant-garde designers like jeremy scott, as four and imitation of christ.

frederick's is located across the street from the plaza hotel. it's a plushy plush kind of lounge with red carpet and low couches -
and seeing all these downtown people hanging out uptown was bizarre.
i feel sure that staff was not used to seeing some of the inventive ensembles the fashion kids were wearing.
more bjork than brooks brothers.

the beautiful concept henry was DJing when we got there, and there was free vodka, so we parked ourselves on a couch and watched the show. really interesting shoes, lots of sparkles, lots of white on white.

i spotted my dentist, who happens to be dreamy-hot and related to as four. he hopped in my lap for a photo op. i also ran into josh, who told me he'd be at orchard bar later.

after twj showed up we walked down 58th street - the boys were going to take me to the web - the gaysian club next to tao - but there was a $10 cover so we walked over to the townhouse.
talk about old school.
i am used to being the only woman in a gay bar, but i am not used to being the youngest.
well-dressed, impeccably groomed khaki-clad older gentlemen were drinking martinis and singing along as the piano player banged out "everything's coming up roses."

it was entertaining, sort of like an anthropological study.
and more than one gray-haired gent inquired about the meaning of my t-shirt.
but i headed downtown. stopped by orchard bar to say hi to josh, and then popped into kush to holler at nnadi.

saturday i had many many errands to run: the post office, kinko's, crate and barrel...

around 9:30 i went over to DJ workhorse's apartment for a beer before heading out to see the roughstars.
we were expecting my girl james, but she was having transportation troubles, so we left without her.
since it was just the two of us, workhorse rode me on the back of his cute lil vintage vespa.

as we scooted over the williamsburg bridge at about 30 mph, i actually felt a breeze, despite the crazy humidity.
the water was all sparkly and i didn't feel like i might die, the way i used to sometimes on my ex's motorcycle.

we got to galapagos with plenty of time to spare,
and james made it before the band went on.
the roughstars ROCK.
cornelius and vito are so passionate on stage, and the crazy energetic music hits hard.
it was a great show - short and raucous.

after the show, james and i walked over to bembe. it was steamy and sexy in there, afrocubanlatinbrazilian style.
steffan was playing tunes and duda was behind the bar.
james made the acquaintance of a handsome young man named juan carlos, and i ran into my friend luis from lucky strike/rialto.

workhorse showed up with a couple of girls, and then the six of us -
workhorse and isis on the vespa; juan carlos, james, katherine and i in a cab -
went to apt, where the music was bangin' and the members of the roughstars were on the dancefloor.
we danced and danced and danced...
until they shut down, at around 4:30am.
james sent juan carlos home and went with me to grab a slice of pizza -
(i hadn't had any dinner)
and then i ran into my old buddy etienne de yans... but the sun was coming up.
birds were singing. people were going to the gym. it was time to go home. i got in at 5:30 and slept soundly.

sunday rachael helped me finally make all my stencil dreams come true:
benicio on felt is the new black!
(stencil pix TK)

1 comment:

Patrick said...

Socialsally, the townhouse is a trip.