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So many nights I find myself walking though our fair city. I am often
in the Entertainment District, seeing movies, or eating out. And yes, on the
odd occasion, I have been to the clubs in order to appease non-goth friends of
mine. And in recent months, I have noticed the stark difference between the
Richmond crowd and our precious gothic scene. It’s downright frightening.
For some reason, it just hit me how the clubs and the atmosphere can be so
freakishly obscene sometimes. So I felt compelled to document it. What follows
is a little comparison chart for those who are smart enough to steer clear of
the clubs in the Richmond-John-Adelaide-Peter area. Or as I affectionately
refer to it “The Square From Hell.”
The
Richmond & John Crowd:
Outside:
Lineups
all the time. And this is something I don’t understand. I actually stood
in line once to scope out one of these place. After a 20 minute wait I enter.
And I expect throngs of hot, trashing bodies heating up the dance floor. On the
contrary, the joint was half empty. I put it down to a lame marketing ploy to
make it look as though the place is jumping. And in the winter line-ups, half
naked girls stand coatless in strappy heels, shivering. The guys have their
coats. But I’ve always wondered why the guys in line wouldn’t offer
the girls their jacket. The reason could be two-fold: One, they’ve never
heard of the word “chivalry”. Two, they refuse to hand over their
coat to someone stupid enough to stand outside in -10 degree weather without a
jacket.
The Club:
Shiny and bare, just like the girls
who go there. Club owners tout the décor as “minimalist chic”
which usually means “we have no furniture, so go lean against the
bar.” The furniture that IS there is either faux suede or fake fur. And it
just screams “Pimp Daddy.” The Attitude:
I’m convinced
that along with the stringent dress code, these clubs have the unwritten rule
that if you don’t carry attitude, then hit the road.
You can see the
sign beside the door:
NO JEANS
NO RUNNING SHOES
NO SYMBOLS INFLATED
EGOS- MANDATORY.
Clothes:
Boys- Pressed slacks, gold
neck chain, and button down top with some cheesy design-- anything from palm
leaves, to strange lines and swirls. Kind of like the pictures you made as a
kid with the “Spiro-graph.” (that neat stencil toy from the 1980s.)
Whatever the design, they tend to be ghastly-- and I am not using this in the
good sense of the word.
Girls- The idea here seems to be less clothing,
the better. Now I am not saying that dressing skimpy means you look like a
whore. I think there is an art to wearing as little as possible while still
looking like a cupcake, not a tart. These girls have not grasped this art.
Tight low riders or mico-minis with fuchsia g-string exposed is the selection
of the day. Bend over and you’ve got the “insta-plumber.” And
tops are looking like the 80s hooker-- see-through, off the shoulder numbers
that barely graze the belly button.
The only redeeming thing with both
sexes is that you are highly unlikely to come across clothes from the Wal-Mart
sales rack.
Hair:
Boys- Gel is the key here.
Apparently,there’s no such thing as too much. It’s slicked
everywhere, except at the very front where it’s all spiky a la George
Clooney circa 1999. And if you try and touch it, one of two things will happen:
He will cower in fear that you will mar his styling efforts. Or you touch it
and end up with a hand full of grease.
Girls- Flat ironed to the point
of nearly being singed and loaded up with hairspray. Warning: Highly flammable!
Do not light matches within a three-foot radius.
The
Music:
Annoying and repetitive euro-trash dance. Then you’ve
got that dude in the corner simulating the base-“Tss-tss-tss-tss.”
What the hell does that mean? Are you trying to tell me that you have suddenly
turned into a human synthesizer? I don’t get it.
The Pick
up:
Boys- “Yo, watcha doin’ baby?” And a slimy
swagger to go along with it.
Pelvis first.
Girls- They don’t
actually say anything. They rely on their hip huggers to catch the eye of the
perv at the bar. Please refer back to “The Clothes.”
The Queen & Bathurst Crowd:
Outside:
Line-ups are rare and usually only happen if there is a
major event (Halloween Party at Savage-- Woo HOO!) or if it’s the night
before a statutory holiday. The gaggle of people standing outside are sneaking
a quick cigarette, thanks to the new smoking by-law. Everyone seems to huddle
in little groups. In essence, it’s a friendly vibe that makes you want to
join one of the groups, even if you don’t know anyone, or you don’t
smoke.
The Club:
Dark, dark, and more dark. Could you
ask for anything more? And oh yes, all those chairs and couches. Because the
fine club owners in our scene know that we need a place to rest after drinking
and dancing for so many hours-- and a good place for a quick cuddle, of course.
Affection runs rampant at our bars.
The Attitude:
None
so serious to turn people away. Granted, you do get some goths who carry the
“holier than thou” mentality, for whatever reason. They believe they
are better than everyone else because they are goth. They also think
they’re better than other goths. So they stand there and criticize
everyone that comes their way. One dear reader of this column mentioned to me
the “Vampire Queen”-- a person whom I associate with this mentality.
The last time I encountered such a person was nearly ten years ago at Sanctuary
when I was a wee tot of 18. And thankfully I haven’t had a run-in with
this type of person since. Let’s keep it that way people!
Clothes:
White cotton.
Ha ha. Just kidding. It’s black
for the most part. But whether it’s gorgeous heavy velvet or slick PVC,
it’s always unique. Individuality is the key. Goths may be lurkers, but we
never like to blend in with the crowd.
Hair:
Boys- Bald,
long, short, and everything in between. But feel free to touch-- you are
virtually guaranteed to come away gel free.
Girls- Bald, long, short
and everything in between. And we don’t like hair gel.
The
Music:
Do I really need to say anything here? From the old
schoolers who adore Siouxsie and Bauhaus, to those who seek out the latest in
EBM and industrial, we love our music. And we love to dance to it.
The Pick up:
This is a tough one. Our goth clubs aren’t
meat markets. People go to have a good time and to dance. But put together a
group of gorgeous, dark individualists who have a romantic yet lustful soul,
then ply them with alcohol and play some of the most powerful, nay, seductive
music, things happen. We are lovers and we are a passionate crowd. Picking up
someone is not done in words so much as through the music. Every boy I’ve
met at a goth club has been on the dance floor. Hot bodies drifting together.
Your skin touches and, well, you make up the rest. Please refer back to last
month’s column for options on where to take the encounter at the club, if,
for some reason, you are stumped.
See you all on Queen Street. And may
you never drift southward!
(Unless it’s to go to New York City.
Watch out for Darq Angel’s upcoming adventures in the Big (Dark)
Apple.)
posted July 31st 2004 |
Darq Angel has been living in
Toronto for 15 years. An avid reader, writer, club-goer, and music lover, she
has been a lurker in Toronto's gothic scene, floating around quietly, casting
her dark shadow over various clubs and events in the city. 