Last night, after some well-earned feasting and fancy dress, our way home took us through the club/theatre section of a nearby city. We’d seen some drama on the dance floor where we’d been, but there was just so much blog fodder on the drive [some of it flinging itself into the street and giggling]….
The club scene was rarely my scene (though there are particular nights at Xenon’s in NYC and Jody’s in Liverpool that I remember very fondly). But there’s something charming about watching people teeter about on spike heels while trying to run towards a cab, or back to their friends, proclaiming that a cab has been found: as one young woman waves her hand rhinestones flare on otherwise invisible clutch bags, out of the darkness swarm six or seven other women, and they rush to the cab, then around it as they try and work out who is going to sit where, and OMG are we all going to fit? Shadows coalesce into origami octopi with way too many limbs….
…and just as they get the doors closed, the driver gets out of the cab and walks over to an ATM.
The light changes and we swerve away.
At another light, two women, who would ordinarily be of the same height and build are crossing the street. One has on incredibly high heels, tight black sequined pants, a short jacket and bustier [surely there’s a better way to spell that?]; her hair has been painstakingly styled, her makeup flawless. She clicks across the pavement, chk-chk chk-chk! The second woman, walks along side with a rolling gait, one long step to the first woman’s every two, but has no trouble keeping their arms linked. This one wears workboots, jeans, and a loose coat. Her hair is braided and long, but probably nothing different from her everyday style. Oh, but they were out on the town last night and I hope they had a wonderful time.
As for us, dancing shoes that fit better and a setting without so much reverb would be nice.