all the way from new york city,

"calling me constantly, he's asking if i'm sitting pretty, waiting patiently"

24th october 2008

i get off the hour train ride & stomp up the steps into the city. its air is cold; like smoking invisible cigarettes cold. the city air although dirty smells clean & crisp. i know im home. i walk the streets like the back of my hand, stomping away to disco tracks sung by the chanteuse im there to see, through the upper west side & right up to the hotel doors, through & drop off my luggage - a gigantically oversized & now quite dirty balenciaga bag.



back onto the surprisingly quiet street, i call mates letting them know im there & that ill see them a bit later & call another seeing where we will meet up for the afternoon. i take the subway up two stops until our first meeting on 94th. she gets out her camera & starts clicking away. so odd weve know each other so long now & are just meeting. we head down to the lower east side; subway snaps & polaroids.





teany for lunch. we talk about taking breaks from school, about the city & its cupcakes, about cameras & photography composition, about shows & CMJ week. she gets a bagel & earl grey. me, a lentil chili & lavender lemonade. its all ill eat the entire day. we question the stack of paper magazines in the window & their free-ness before taking a few copies each.






im taking her to fox & fawn. an absolute must - ive said a million times before. but along the way she decides to stalk someone shes seen disappear into a candy shop. we duck in. its late of the pier. ive only ever heard of them once or twice. she saw them the night before in brooklyn. she takes their polaroid. they are out doing a photoshoot until another show that night. they put us on the guest list & the redheaded one follows me around asking if i know of any good "retro shops" around there. i tell him fox & fawn. he asks if he could tag along. so they do. both of us, late of the pier, a photographer & a manager all walking down rivington. we stop off for cupcakes, they stop off at a record shop. we meet up at fox & fawn. sit on the steps & eat our red velvet cupcakes, while im sure they just wondered about looking for the tiny mens section they have hidden away. over comes the one in the leather jacket, asking us where were from. he thinks the midwest is just one huge set for a horror film. we laugh. they part hoping to see us at the show & we head inside for a much needed vintage fix.




as lovely as always. although the owner ive made quite the acquaintance with doesnt seem to be there today. i later learn shes moved to la. & apparently a lot of blog readers have been visiting thanks to im sure stevies & i's insane raving, though when the owners ask no one knows which blog they found them from, so next time mention 10.17. they love you guys. i leave with a ysl fur & snakeskin wallet, patrice with a whole bag full of things including a sweater that reminds her (in a good way only of course) the christmas bridget jones sweater. fabulous! she loved it. im sure shes just as addicted as the rest of us now.

over to soho. for a apple instore show of her favourite band & also really good friends - delta spirit. we arrive early & stop by dean & deluca for coffee. we'll need it for the nights we plan on having. i squeal at the sight of a FACE stockholm & spend the twenty five dollars on a matte red liptick. perfect for scarf weather. we avoid more vintage street stalls & she squeals & buys a photography book. after the show, we both get back on the train uptown to our hotels to get ready for the shows we have later & say goodbye only one stop apart.

i walk to the hotel just as easily though more quickly than before; this time ive got excitement pushing me. inside the room im showered with late birthday presents, saying apologies for none given & showed a makeshift preparty buffet of cheese, crackers, grapes, chocolates & champagne. we toast our plastic glasses filled with bubbly & orange triple sec to friendships, birthdays, to the city & to roisin. we all wish we had brought our ipods players to blast ro tunes but instead hurry away, getting ready to the blur of nyc dance radio.

four hours before the show were on the street as fast as we could take it. getting the looks like never before. 'halloweens next weekend, isnt it?' i kept replaying the movie star video in my head. we looked just as cool. my four inch salmon pumps come off after our last subway stop & we run the final four blocks to mansion. although i had to stick them back on if only for a second to make my appearance to the line of only twenty people, our best show mate at the very front saving us all spaces. we make an absolute scene, hugging & screaming like mad. i kept busy asking him about the three goldfrapp shows he attend after we last saw each other for them in september & his multiple (!) chats with alison goldfrapp herself. he says she knows who i am, quite well actually. i melted. photos after photos. i meet another ro fan, all the way from the west coast. we sing moloko songs to the top of our lungs. he tells me i look like & have the same drugged eyes as roisin. i melted. we spot her manager & chat him up. photographers & press arrive in hoards. drag queens from the movie star video work the guest list.
this is the place to be, darlings.




eight thirty pm. ive got to use the loo & my feet are already dying. the doors open, ids are out. i hand mine to the bouncer only for him to hand it back & say i wasnt allowed in. 'youre underage sweetheart. this is a 21 & over only club'. i back away, stunned, so many thoughts running through my head. this cant happen. this cannot happen. all the money ive spent. the time ive taken. this cannot happen. my friends are already inside but when they notice im not there, they all run back out wondering whats going on. they say they'll talk to her manager & not to worry - they'll take care of it.

i stand on the other side of the ropes, praying my heart out, envious of every single body passing through the doors. the drag queen approaches asking why i was pouting & questioned the fact that he/she was sure i should be on the guest list. 'just look at you - just like roisin. the hair!' i explain the story & he/she skips off to find the management. 'dont worry darling. we'll get you in'. i wait longer seeing more & more men in suits & roisin badges pass & point at me. one comes closer & closer 'the nineteen year old? dont look so sad. we just have to wait a bit longer. you'll get in. no worries. i'll wait here with you. are you cold? here take my scarf' im shocked by his niceness, thank him & insist that im ok.

minutes that seem like hours pass. more & more photographers & vips step out of chauffeured cars. a group of three approach where im standing looking every bit the movie star video (its really the best way to describe the look, no?) the photographer photographs for a magazine id heard of but now have forgotten. they all pose & chat, me in the background. when they turn around & apologize for not taking my photo 'you look fabulous, love. just like roisin! lets see the shoes! the hair! love!' we strike up a small convo about fashion & the magazine before another one of roisins posse in charge of press creeps up behind me & says 'were going to sneak you in as a photographer. heres your wrist band. this will get you in - no questions. i want you to go around the back, look for soinso & tell him i sent you & that you are to go through the back & that you get front row whichever space you like'. i thank her, a bit confused as to "around the back" so i ask the guy who offered me the scarf who in turns gives me his cell number
& says 'if you need anything - call me'

sure enough i get around to the back & no soinso is to be found. i ask the bouncers but they act clueless. 'we dont know what to do with you vips. you with whats her name? ro-sheeen?' well sortof i say & get out my phone to call. 'stay right there. ill be there in a second' & before i know it he's there arm around me escourting me through the back; i see the trunks & rails of her fabulous costumes, brushing each one with my fingertips as i pass in a blur & suddenly in a sea of people, he shows me to the front, gives me a huge hug & says 'here you are, love. this is it. enjoy the show' a tear drips from my eye as i see im already surrounded my wonderful mates, all hugging me saying how happy they are i made it & how i must tell them of my crazy adventure later just as the beginning beats of 'cry baby' start to pulse through our veins.













the show was brilliant & i am now fully in love with miss roisin murphy. i grabbed for her wrist during the madness that was primitive (3.56) while everyone else had her hand, she was taken aback at first but just locked eyes with me & smiled. later on during forever more (1.03) she knelt down & sang to me looking again straight into my eyes when she then reaches for my wrist, smiling that same smile at me again before she is attacked by ten other hands & pulls away. we have a wrist thing going on now i guess. the costumes looked even better on her than on the rack, obviously, though it was hard to imagine that that feathered coat could look any better.



as the show ended the music never stopped, the dj continued & the floor transformed into a dancefloor as the movie star donned crowd parted for drinks. i stood in awe, gushing about it all with my mates, admiring the sheer gorgeousness of the club, of its sparkley chandeliers & velvet seats. the insanely nice management of roisins had planned a special meeting for me after the show but as i walked over to two of them through the crowd to thank them again, they both informed me roisin had already left as she had to be in spain for a show the next day. 'sing it back' began to play & the crowd erupted into cheers for the classic moloko tune. i stood & danced alone, feeling much like im sure roisin did that night she wrote the song herself in an nyc club. never had the lyrics meant more.

bring it back
sing it back
bring it back
sing it back to me

when you are ready i will surrender
take me and do as you will
have what you want you're ways always the best way

i have succumbed to this passive sensation
peacefully falling away
i am the zombie your wish will command me
laugh as i fall to my knees

come come come to my sweet melody

i was escourted once again out of the club as i couldnt stay any longer after the show concluded. the man in the suit & roisin badge took me by the arm through the crowd, asking if id enjoyed the show, commenting on how much i looked like her. 'ro-sheeen, is it?' as we waltzed passed the bouncer who originally denied my access inside he screamed at us both 'tell me how did she get in? shes underage! just how did she get in here?!' my escourt ignored him & said loudly as he showed me to the street 'thank you so much for coming, sweetheart. im so glad you enjoyed the show. it would not have been the same without you. have a lovely night.'

& off i walked in my salmon pumps down the cold october nyc street through lightbulb flashes & 'who is she?' whispers.

barefoot yet again, my friends & i singing 'sow into you' drunkenly on the walk to the hotel where we collapsed & didnt move until the smell of the city awoke us again.

love, A.

photo credits to my darling patrice