It was sponsored by Danger, a now defunct group of promoters headed by a Mr. Etundi. The party itself was pretty fabulous. My roommate and I nabbed tickets online, before the thing sold out in a few hours. We dressed up, her in a long black back revealing dress. Myself in cream, with long white gloves, red lipstick. The invite said to be rag-tag dressy, or something, and we did that with some oomph. I am willing to admit that yes. There was a headpiece, and it received a mighty many compliments.
The first location was just off the Gowanus bridge, at a metal work studio. Large iron sculptures adorned the inside. A man in a white mask played a somber cello song. And upstairs on the loft, there was a tree house, and girls on a metal hoop scantily clad in white holding candles.
Then some limo's came, and our host introduced herself as Placenta, for that night at least. And we rode to a warehouse apparently titled Shang Hai Mermaid. We entered, and behind the red curtained door was a human in a large tree costume, welcoming us in.
There were candles, and a bar in the back. It was a cross between a speakeasy, and a electronica minimalistic dj party. The drinks were strong, and champagne was thrown out.
"Shang...Hai...Person...fish?" I said, reading about half the characters on the post. "Man, I can barely read anything. How embarrassing."
"I got person. 'Bout it." My roommate said.
There was a photobooth, and outside, a large bonfire which my roommate and I thoroughly enjoyed. Around 3 in the morning, we decided to call it quits - and called a car back home.
Can things like this happen in other cities? I've wondered about these sort of incidents. On my way out, I saw a girl offer socks to another.
"I know I probably will never see you again, but here!" She said, her large feather boa dangling around her neck.
These tiny minute incidents are largely (I think) what make up the New York mentality. Which seems to be appreciate the small minutia, momentary connections with complete strangers who you might never see again. To wonder in the future seems verboten - almost silly. I felt exhausted at times trying to keep up with the energy needed to continually introduce yourself, and represent yourself properly.
I can already hear Krod and Kdef shaking their heads. And I'm hardpressed to accurately describe the blissful feeling of anonymity with possibility. You can be anyone just walking around, but at any moment, you could meet a future roommate, or business venture. It all seems doable, albeit no less difficult.
It was neither my first nor my last Brooklyn venture, and considering how I woke up with both kidneys - I consider my night a success. Everything in my room now smells like nicotine and campfire, delectable if particular.
