Ever wonder what happened to the hot to trot Disco Queens and Kings of the 1970s? Those truly passionate about the dance and disco movement could not have given up their spandex so easily could they?
I'm here today to tell you it's true. They are still out there working the dance floor.
I've discovered their lair and it ain't pretty.
Saturday night while catering to the Bride-to-be's desire to party and celebrate the end of her Bachelorette status (the sequel), a bunch of 38-52 year old women found themselves wandering from club to club amidst scantily clad 21? year old chickies and the boys that drool over them. After opening a club by arriving at the way to early time of 9:30PM...we tried to adjust our ears and our voice volume to compensate for the pounding beat of the dance clubs. What did I learn about dance clubs of the 2009 era? There is no variety of beat. The key is to keep every single song on the exact same beat...if you can do that and vary the songs and artists, ok, but if not- no worries. Today's dance club patrons will tolerate "Pump it up" once every 20 minutes, no problem.
Having been dubbed the "quilting club table" by the comedian in the earlier comedy club activity...we definitely felt our age creeping up on us in this setting. Of course, seeing one 38 year old adventurous bridesmaid in her jeans and cotton t-shirt bump butts with some strangers in sparkly spandex on the dance floor when "I like big butts" came on was one hysterically funny highlight, but all in all, we felt a bit out of sync with the crowd.
It was suggested by someone in the group we head to another club that catered to the 35 and over crowd. Sounded good to us.
But within moments of arrival, I realized that this was even worse. While the other clubs had felt too young, there was still a sense of familiarity that reminded us of our younger exploits....this club was downright frightening. Women and men much much over 35 were gyrating to a mix of music that included the same dance tunes we had just left behind along with returns of Saturday Night Fever, Jackson 5 and a highlight - THRILLER - which seems to be spanning the generational divide. I stood with my mouth hanging open and my arms firmly clenched against my sides as severely aging disco kings and queens milled around me - many of the scary predator looking kings were checking us out with interest. We were, after all, the youngest in the room.
Now I know I'm a tight-ass. I know I'm a bit of a prude. I know I can be judgmental and like to climb on a soap box. I know I prefer a good book and a quiet night at home to an ear-splitting drunken binge night out. But I am telling you, that any one in their right mind would have been terrified in this space. Well...unless you are a sociologist studying the effects of high decibel music and too tight spandex outfits on the Baby Boomer generation. If you had this rare occupation, you'd be in heaven.
I observed one particular "babe" in the harsh lighting of the bathroom. While I waited my turn to go in, I watched her primp at the mirror. She wore a black clingy jersey dress that barely covered her upper thighs and had spaghetti straps at the shoulders. Her back was humped - from too many nights at a bar stool or a calcium/bone loss situation, I'm not sure which. She flipped her bleached (with Clorox?) blond hair over to fluff it and whipped it back, nearly toppling in her 5-inch spiked heels when she came upright. After reapplying the several inch thick make-up, she took off her bifocals and hid them in her rhinestone studded purse. As she turned I noticed that the lack of bra straps allowed for her breasts to swing free and low....what a mess.
She was later observed bellying up to the bar and a few fellows including a Don Johnson wanna be in a white linen suit with loafers, no socks, and a baby blue stretch t-shirt. Honest to god. If you wanted to make a movie about folks trapped in a time warp, this is the place.
So, if you want to observe this yourself, head on over to Taylor's on Monroe Avenue in Rochester NY. It is truly the land of the aging disco queens. And if you are frightened by what you see, don't say I didn't warn you.