Laura Bonet, who owns and operates the restaurant Bolero and the glitzy backroom club Match on Washington Avenue with Michael Martin, had suggested the prospect of celebrities: "Why don't you come when the Gipsy Kings are going to be here?" But then, we couldn't think of anything to actually say to the Kings. ("I really, really, loved your cover of `My Way.'") Although a faintly embarrassing concept, one of the regular Tuesday and Thursday ladies-night parties - ordinary, horny, and noncelebrity crammed - seemed a better alternative.
It was all kind of Eighties disco madness, Regine's meets a Latin version of Nell's: mirrored balls, brocaded lamp shades, leopard-patterned banquettes, lots of gold lame. Happily enough, a group of ladies with major hair materialized within moments and obligingly posed for a photo opportunity.
Being stars, at least momentarily, they completely ignored the men in attendance, expertly struck attitudes of frivolity, and then left a cruel vacuum in their wake. Afterward, as they walked out to the restaurant, one of the thoroughly modern glamour gals gushed philosophically to her friend: "You know what? Let's just have fun tonight and not think about what we're doing.