Something about South Beach, and every time you see it, you remember
why you loved it the first time and especially in the midst of a
New York winter. And maybe that's one key to keeping the whole
circuit thing fresh: go to a place that's antithetical to whDJat you
We landed on the sandbar on Thursday afternoon and once we hit the
Albion, we were promptly bumped up to a penthouse. This only happens
to people we know not us. When we saw our kingdom in the sky, we
realized we were never going to leave and especially when we saw
the words NUrSe's CrAcK sHacK scrawled beneath one of the chaises on
the terrace which was probably written the year that Nurse was
terrorizing the Albion, the year that Lydia Prim went fishing at
five a.m. and found Nursey and some straight boy doodling in the
dunes. So we knew we were in the right place.
And Friday night, we ran into the Infamous with Her Cracker Jack arm
pumping the air right beneath Tracy's booth. The Space party that
night was kind of a perfect meet-and-greet. All those familiar
faces. People you were hoping you'd see again. Our favorite It Boy,
for example we spotted him within ten minutes, with his boyfriend.
And Doug and Josh were there, and Nurse was receiving visitors on
her box. It was our first time at Space, which for those who haven't
been, has something of a concrete square box feel to it. It's over
in Miami, off South Beach, and last year's Friday party was at Ice
Palace and this year's Friday party was less dramatic and more
back to basics. Which was fine and maybe a key as to how we
received the rest of the weekend.
The Pool Party on Saturday afternoon always works for us. The
sightlines from atop the row of cabanas, looking over the pool and
out toward the ocean. A sea of beauty and color and it's Saturday
afternoon and there are locals off from work and people from all
over the country, the world, and everyone's drinking and laughing
and there's music and dancing and people in the pool and inflatable
balls bouncing and this year a giant blue ape and lots of pink
monkeys. It's so easy, this party. It's like wandering through a
candy store, or a field of poppies. We were with a bunch of friends,
who became our posse, a Brazilian girl, and two Brits, and one guy
from Melbourne and two New York girls, and one local from Miami. We
all ate it up and took about a hundred photos. And we enjoyed
Lydia's music, which worked for an afternoon party. I thought she
got it right even if it was a little haunting that she played Love
Is In the Air at the very end and then the last song was that Herb
Alpert morning music song, Sunrise or something like that. Very old
school but hey, it was Saturday and what's wrong with a little
sentiment on Saturday.
Besides, Saturday night was all about the boomboombuttabonkbonk.
Manny at Maze. The last Saturday night party in the space once
called Salvation. While our posse went to Back Door Bamby, we walked
right into the thick of Maze and didn't even hesitate before wading
onto the floor. Not a drink, not a pee, not a meet and greet, before
we were shaking it for Manny. The floor was packed. The lights were
low. Blue and fuchsia. Purpley and smoke thick. You could hardly see
across the floor to the center platform which was packed with
boys. Everything was packed. The mezzanine with its sofas and
chairs, which were soon piled atop each other. Manny worked it. It
was a Saturday night party. The mood was great. We didn't see anyone
messing up just everyone having fun. Moving to the music. Loved
it, loved that party.
And then on to Sunday afternoon's WinterParty on the 14th Street
beach. Acidhouse trippy decorations under a gray cloudy sky and Tony
Moran at the helm, dancing to his own sound. Packed with people and
us with our posse and you know how sometimes it's hard to move when
you're a group, but this day it was right because we all kept
wandering off, away from each other, and then finding each other
again, which always gives you that thrill of recognition oh, thank
God, there you are, have you seen, did you hear - and for a while we
were on the bleachers taking photos and dancing and then back at the
far end of the floor with our friend Marion who's kind of like Nurse
with all her energy and the way she incites all the boys in the yard
and Marion was shaking her little skirtie and working her stilettos
and so was Christina in her Circuit Cheerleader outfit.
Then back to Nurse's Former Crack Shack Penthouse, now ours, and
party in the sky until time for Abel at Space. The party we were
kind of aiming for, though we didn't want to think about it like
that. And especially after we saw Space and realized what it was,
and what it wasn't. Not the drama of Level/Paragon, or Crobar, for
example, not an old theatre converted to a club. But fine, fine,
just the same, and because we were now a posse, we got there earlier
than we would have otherwise, because they were ready, though we
were thinking we should wait until after three or so, but it was not
even two when we arrived and Abel was working that old Paragon
sound. And while Space looked fine, there wasn't the drama of Level
to take the party into extraordinary. But the party was working, and
especially because half of our posse had never heard Abel before
Hello? Where've they been? But never mind.... So we let go,
imagining Abel was getting to us for the first time, the way Abel
mixes music, and we watched them respond and hello, they got off.
They were there. They went. And then five a.m. rolled around, and
Victor's boys started rolling in from Crobar, and whoa, we were
really skiing then. That cha-cha sound, as Hilton pointed out, it
took over and everyone grabbed on. God, he was moving us.
And maybe a little too much for some. In the period of two hours, we
saw three fall-outs, and one up in the mezzanine which did not look
pretty and it was traumatic for some of us, watching the struggle to
get the poor guy up and out. And then another being dragged through
the crowd by three security guys and two WinterParty volunteers and
then, yet another as we peeked into the MedEvent room, thinking it
was a lounge and not the ER where the fellow was writhing in the
arms of those attempting to carry him. God, who needs this kind of
buzzkill? Not that I'm here to judge, and especially because members
of our own little group were prone to indulgence in areas where we
don't dabble but God, it's horrible to witness people leaving this
spaceship for the emptiness of floating through space.
Enough. There was Power on the box. Thank God. He has such focus
when he moves. He keeps it there, the whole time he's performing.
That body, not an ounce of fat. Those legs. Werk.
And then the outdoor Space was open and people mingled and danced
in the open air, beneath the morning sun. An escape from all the
intensity that Abel was creating inside.
We were there until eight a.m. Too early for us to leave, but our
legs weren't having any more of it. And plus, there was safety in
the knowledge that we had Abel at Alegria Xtreme just ahead this
Sunday. So back to the sandbar, back to our penthouse and then,
yesterday, back to the snow falling on Manhattan. And if that
doesn't make South Beach look like Shangri-La....
In the next couple days, we'll post some of our photos on our
website www.mrny.com so if it's snowing where you live and you need
a dose of sunshine.....