Return to Eurodisco
Aug. 1st, 2003 02:23 amI am on the very last evening of a very long, very demanding business trip. I wanted to get to see
poetbear, but I've been forced to do work things and social work-related things every night for a week and 2 days. I'll be here again, soon, though, so that maybe I can meet him in person then.
Tonight's impromptu social function involved a dinner of seafood paella at a Eurodisco in a luxury suburb. People with bleach blonde hair, much younger women seemingly on the make for much older (but presumably well-heeled) much older men, the kind of place that might be featured in a Cosmo article or an ad for cosmetic surgery.
This was the type of place where the Prince videos played during the good moments, and the bad moments featured all one zillion screens showing video of the house band, with a Clairol blonde woman in low-riding tight jeans and her "wish I were Bono but I'm singing Disco Inferno" sidekick, being backed by a rather humdrum band. It was like some huge time machine to bad 80s Eurotrash discos past, only for some reason it reminded me more of standing in line at an office building deli when Ecstasy was still legal, hearing frat boys in 800 dollar suits brag about pickups and X.
In those days, the best Dallas Eurodisco had a special "coded drink" that came with X. I've never been into controlled substances, finding my sins in chocolate and personal failure/wasted potential, but the rich vein of memories tapped into my mainline. But I don't miss those days. I like the days I live.
Tonight's impromptu social function involved a dinner of seafood paella at a Eurodisco in a luxury suburb. People with bleach blonde hair, much younger women seemingly on the make for much older (but presumably well-heeled) much older men, the kind of place that might be featured in a Cosmo article or an ad for cosmetic surgery.
This was the type of place where the Prince videos played during the good moments, and the bad moments featured all one zillion screens showing video of the house band, with a Clairol blonde woman in low-riding tight jeans and her "wish I were Bono but I'm singing Disco Inferno" sidekick, being backed by a rather humdrum band. It was like some huge time machine to bad 80s Eurotrash discos past, only for some reason it reminded me more of standing in line at an office building deli when Ecstasy was still legal, hearing frat boys in 800 dollar suits brag about pickups and X.
In those days, the best Dallas Eurodisco had a special "coded drink" that came with X. I've never been into controlled substances, finding my sins in chocolate and personal failure/wasted potential, but the rich vein of memories tapped into my mainline. But I don't miss those days. I like the days I live.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-01 01:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-02 09:37 am (UTC)well-heeled
Date: 2003-08-01 11:35 am (UTC)Re: well-heeled
Date: 2003-08-02 09:39 am (UTC)Interestingly, the phrase only dates to 1880 or so, while "down at the heels", a phrase for being poor, does refer to human shoe quality.
I like your idea of well-horse-shoed, too!
Re: well-heeled
Date: 2003-08-02 10:12 am (UTC)Well-heeled never had anything to do with people being well shod (so it has no link with down at heel). The original expression came from cock-fighting, and meant to provide one’s bird with good, sharp spurs (considered, it would seem, as a kind of artificial heel) that would inflict the most damage. It was taken over into American usage in frontier days to mean that one was likewise carrying a weapon, but in the more modern sense of a gun (the first recorded use is from a story of Mark Twain’s dated 1866). Only later did it transfer its meaning to being armed with a more powerful weapon still: money