Hot Hot Heat

We all got exceedingly drunk on Native's deceptively cheap jugs of beer and staggered out at 3am with our ears ringing when the ska somehow segued into drum n bass. Ick. I bloody hate drum n bass. The Boy needless to say was loving it but as I can't fecking stand the foul racket, an executive decision was taken to leave. The crowd was a bit crap anyway - too many women wearing flowered dresses and heels. To a club. I ask you.
Honestly darlings, and stop me when I sound pretentious, but you just don't get the same quality clubber in Bristol you do in New York. I do miss the sheer fabulousness of New York clubs even if I don't miss the eye popping drinks prices. Still - if you are young enough and fabulous enough it's not hard to get your drinks bought for you. I used to wear a pink fun fur mini skirts with platform shoes high enough to break my ankles in out clubbing. Oh shut up, it was the mid nineties, I was 19 and really skinny. Besides this was pre the Party Monster murder when night-life in New York was still crazy.
1 Comments:
We're getting old... I went to an underground party in SF a few weeks ago. They were serving booze and there weren't any piles of kids doing E in the corner.
It was better back in the day, wasn't it?
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