[December, 1995] Oh My Goth (Epic Birthday Weekend, Part 2)
[Background: the day after my 18th birthday, I went to my first goth club, The Bank. Imagine how excited a little kid is to visit Disney World for the first time and then multiply that by ten and make it spooky and that’s how I felt going to this club.]
Alright, I’ll finally write about The Bank. It’s smaller than I expected it to be, which was nice because I kept seeing a lot of the same people. And, oh these beautiful people. I have never been attracted to Robert Smith, but I saw all these boys with Robert Smith hair and couldn’t help but be drawn to them. In fact there was this one beautiful male with that hair, eyeliner and a Sisters T-shirt and a skirt. I asked him to dance but he said, “I would but my girlfriend would kill me!” I didn’t mind, though. At one point—during “This Corrosion”—I was dancing next to him and this other guy in a velvet shirt with fishnet sleeves and slicked back hair who Anita thought looked like Dave Navarro. Both were just gorgeous and I kept accidentally (really) brushing against them… I was ready to die.
[Let’s talk about this Robert Smith thing. I’ve never had a thing for the Cure frontman for several reasons. Firstly, he has a cleft chin, which I refer to as a “butt chin” and have always found unattractive on a man. Second of all, while Robert Smith generally does well ok the eye make-up, the lipstick is usually a smeary mess (in an interview, Smith once admitted this was because he has no upper lip but I still think it’s because he puts lipstick on with his feet). Then there’s the hair: while in looked cute in his younger years, it grew like some kind of evil Chia pet into a tangled, dreadlocked mess that would look more appropriate in a Derelicte fashion show. And while we’re on the topic of youth, unlike some other gloomy singers like Morrissey and Peter Murphy, who have aged gracefully, Robert Smith has held fast to the same aesthetic for over 30 years and it’s just not doing him any favors anymore. However, back in my heyday I came across many cute spooky boys who adopted elements of Smiths look to much greater effect. Pale face, eyeliner, big spiky hair? Yes, please! Unless your first name is Robert and your last name is Smith.]
There were two places where music was played—the main room and this side room (the catacombs), which played more of the gothic stuff. The music was excellent. It took me a little while to really get dancing, “Juke Joint Jezebel” was what really got me into it. I kept going back and forth between the two rooms, both had great stuff (a lot of Cure).
[I don’t know if it’s odd to be super-persnickety about the first song you dance to at a club, but I was like that during my entire clubbing tenure. I don’t know why that very first song mattered so much, but I treated it the way we’re taught to treat virginity: it had to be one I loved. Once I broke the musical seal, I was far less picky about what I’d dance to, especially if alcohol was involved (again, some might draw parallels to virginity here, but I’ll won’t). In any case, I popped my goth club cherry to KMFDM. Could’ve been better, could’ve been worse. Just like… you know.]
Well after the Robert Smith guy declined my offer to dance I went into the catacomb and asked another guy who I had been watching (tall, lots of black eyeliner, black lipstick). This one did dance with me. Afterwards, we started talking and ended up hanging out the whole evening Unfortunately all we did was talk, though I did give him a hug before we left. He seemed really shy. A shame, too, because he had his lip and tongue pierced. *sigh* His name was Dylan and he was moving to San Francisco (!) in a week (what is my problem?! Can’t I meet someone who’ll be in the state for a while?!). He was kind of bummed because this was going to be his last night at the Bank and it was the best time he ever had there (that’s what he said! He was pretty sweet). We didn’t exchange addresses or anything but it was still a cool night.
I wasn’t sure what to expect of the people but the ones I talked to were nice. It was great to see all these goths in a small area. There were a small group of these guys dressed like vampires (white shirts, capes, etc.) that I got a kick out of. It’s the sort of place I wish I could go back to every week. Well, at least there’s New Years (I’ll probably go back then, Mephisto Walz will be playing).
Spoiler alert: my gothy future includes going clubbing up to three (maybe even four?) times a week.
Yeah, it was bittersweet meeting two cool (and attractive) guys in one night, both of whom were passing through before living on the other side of the country. But apart from that, I was on a high from finally being among my people, dancing to great dark tunes, and feeling completely at home in the “gloomy” surroundings. To say I was elated would be an understatement. And also going against basic goth principles, but oh well. Who says you can’t be a happy goth?