Kate Rigg Kulturefuk

I, the polymorphous perverse subculture vulture known as Kate Rigg, am getting too old to remember my own sordid and trashy stories. I'm blogging so that my future self can be a voyeur into my own voyeuristic dips into culture. Kulturefuk math: Gumption=access, I may not last long on this tasting spree in the world of kulturefuk, but for now, as they say at a vogueing competition: It's ON.

Friday, July 24, 2009

That SOBE lizard makes me DANCE! Part 1 SOBE Friday party in the West Village

This photo is me at the party
Dude, this one was off the chain. Every Friday this summer there is a party thrown by genius promoters and apparently sponsored by SOBE that made me sit down like I did 10 years ago at Pat Field's birthday and say THIS PARTY IS IT!! CAN I LIVE HERE?? Leda had the hookup as she so often does and got us on a list. Which we werent on when we got there but she totally fixed and we walked right on in to a giant warehouse with movie screens and these gorgeous classic cars being wiped down by short short wearing models.

party Crash tip #9
You have to know someone who has the hookup and hang with them all the time until you earn the status of automatic plus one.

Party Crash Tip #10 even if you do hang with the person with the hookup you need to know the name of the hookup's hookup who put you on the list in the first place and prefereably have their phone number for when the list holder says ummmm no, who are you with. Acting cool, and indifferent with a sliver of indignant usually gets the job done at this point. Drop the name, act like you could give a shit if you do go in, make the call and leave a voice mail. Like, hey i thought you had put us on the list we are outside. If your shoes are nice, usually this is enough to get you in.



The sliders came out then sushi (not pretend sushi which is avocado and cucumber only--no the real kind with fish and everything!) and then some kinda dumpling thing that was delicious. I just sat and looked at the car polishers asses and admired the lamborghini they had somehow gotten into this party. It was an indoor drive in for Spike Lee's joint. Upstairs there were free manicures and pedicures on the roof and a bar pouring sobe mixed drinks all night long like the Diddy-- Ciroc and agave lemonade and pink lemonade mmmm-- and the crowd all looked like the wandered in out of a maxwell video or a commercial for brandy (drink not DUI singer) or some rich people in brooklyn party for angela robinson. You get the idea, lots of hats, and spats and dreds. I looked kinda dorky in black suit with yellow rosary but I passed. DJ Mos was spinning the the door guy Mel, a giant gorgeous movie sar looking bouncer in black suit with earpiece, who knew all about all the parties here. They had Robin Thicke up in here last week. They had cool DJ's. I have to admit if i actually wanna stop eating sliders and dance at 2pm that DJ is BANGIN. This is why we all need sponsors.

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