We last left our children of the night--and I'm using children here like a member of a house, if you don't know anything about ball culture or haven't seen the fantastical documentary Paris Is Burning--at Vlada early into a Wednesday. Epiphany had just rocked some commando lip-sync. My Wonder Twin Brian Mills, Nancy Nosecandy (pictured below), and I had sopped up more cocktails than we could remember the next day.
Brian and I were trying to decide if we wanted to go celebrate the anniversary of Greenhouse with James Coppola or if we wanted to shake our groove thangs. Our thangs won out. We hopped in a cab to the gorgeous Hudson Hotel for the Happening that Jackie Birdy hosts every Wednesday.
Nancy was already working the floor when we arrived. Brian (pictured below) followed suit. I was feeling the lighted floor and the beats. And, apparently, the cherry infused vodka since, as I discovered when I woke up; I'd taken over 3 times the photos that I ended up keeping.
Also there was Matthew Herra C who had shed his shirt and was dance, dance, dancing his way from Jackie's bottle to Demanda to Nancy to anyone who was left on the floor.
Brian scored us another round of something. Then, I noticed Kyle at Jackie's table. As I roamed the room, snapping the scene, I chatted with the strangers I later found in my camera. I'm sure I had fascinating discussions with them about the need for a public option and Alexander McQueen heels.
I spied Brian and Herra drinking directly from what was left of Jackie's bottle. In our dance floor rush, Brian and I were still considering whether or not we were ending the night at Greenhouse. We were riding the perfect storm of libation and vibration.
On the escalator down and out, though, we decided we should head home before we felt shipwrecked. That should always happen the morning after. And it did.
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