So maybe it’s been awhile since I’ve snuck in the back door, but it’s like riding a bike, right?
I got in.
But I came away with that unsettling realization that a new generation has taken over (thank you, Vaginal Davis, for continuing on with Bricktops). Sure, after some 25 years of clubgoing, I’ve had twinges of this before, but somehow, between turning 40, buying a house, and doing god knows what else — learning to throw dinner parties? — I pretty much skipped this transition, or can’t keep up with it (oh, the sound of creaky middle age setting in). The club du jour is becoming the club du minute, and if you don’t get there opening night, it may be some place else by the time you do.
So maybe I’m not always on the list anymore, but I can make a hell of a coq au vin.