My girlfriends and I did the Time warp at the weekend. I mean both figuratively and literally. The venue was The Reflex Club at St Paul’s London. Average age nnnnn nineteen provided you took us out of the equation . On arrival I had a sneaking but rather cloudy suspicion that I was there before circa 1993. I fared a whole lot better this time. The theme park eighties night clubbing experience ages well it seems.
It was a nostalgia spectacular. Cheese, kitsch and frankly some very poor taste did nothing to take from the overwhelming fun feeling. It brought me smack back to a time when the future was filled with exciting promise and bra tops. Twenty years vanished once we hit the illuminated tiles which I might add were mopped with extraordinary dexterity and perplexing regularity.
All the usual suspects were spotted and some surprisingly obscure ones too. We saw Top Gun Tom Cruise, Bianca Jagger, an army of Cyndis, Madonna’s plus A Flock of Seagull’s lead singer, My eyes have never seen so much neon. Clearly one store is making a killing by flogging the decade on a single trend.
It is so amusing and curious to see the next generation take on the era that formed me and my aspirations. According to this lot it was all underpants and cheap fluorescent lycra. And of course comedy shades. The mood was captured but the finer essences and nuances were somewhat missing. Chutzpah triumphed where accuracy failed and some truly hilarious results had me smiling all night. More to some people is definitely more.The rule being if in doubt remove an outer garment then furnish the deficit with more more pink and lime bangles.
Us lot having lived it opted for a somewhat more pared down approach. We preferred to use accents and little flourishes in our tribute. Affectionately nodding towards the decade with careful accessorising. Personally I think we excelled.
The evening’s hilarious shenanigans were interrupted by the bizarrely surreal dance floor announcement of Whiteny Houston’s untimely death. We did the only decent thing and gave it socks to three of her biggest hits thus fermenting the memory forever.
Highlight of the evening had to be Annette’s spectacular rock out to Run Dmc. She thrashed to the beat, blonde hair a flaying like a regular hormone charger teenager. The excitement of It tipped me over the edge resulting in a wardrobe malfunction. Thankfully it was good and dark.