Swelter

More fun to be had actually going to clubs rather than delving into all the ugly machinations behind the scenes. A going-away party for Erinn Cosby at Van Dome, hosting an endless parade of theme parties lately, from Geo Darder's "Vanity" to "The Side Door" alternative night. Mainstream socials, designer Ton Luyk and photographer Iran Issa Kahn in attendance, happily mixing with all the locals. Society, both uptown and downtown, forever throwing an endless series of birthday/going away/I'm-just-happy-to-be-popular parties. Dramatic rumors about a certain South Beach socialite having cosmetic surgery abroad and celebrating a Boston marriage turning out, unfortunately, to be false. The truth can be so annoying.

On to the shank of the evening at The Spot, last-call-for-alcohol time, a moment that always brings to mind an unpleasant image of cockroaches fleeing a suddenly illuminated kitchen. Standing there, lurking in black leather and shaved head, a dangerous-looking thug. The nasty boy, in a classic illusion-versus-reality club mise en scene, turning out to be the perfectly pleasant hair artisan Joe Mesa. Apparently, Mesa undergoing some kind of aesthetic apostasy about that whole styled-hair gestalt. For some curious 5:00 a.m. reason, shaving the hair off suddenly a sensible proposition. Mesa drawing our hand across the stubble, sneering in his trademark way: "Have you got the balls?" Happily, given our line of work, almost too many balls. That hair thing is kind of a problem, though.

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