Last Saturday, I was looking for trouble. You know how it is sometimes, you try and try and try to be good and then something comes up and slaps you in the face and you want to send a big fuck you back to the universe. I think that’s what Rock and Roll might be. But this was me, so I wanted to do it in a gown.
I had heard about North Beach’s Penthouse Club Steakhouse last year and thought that steaks and strippers was an hysterical pairing. It resonated with me because I feel bad about women stripping and I feel worse about eating steak. I tried to be a vegetarian for years, but I’m so anemic that I was injuring my heart. And hey, as much as we hate it, life lives off life. That’s just the way it is.
Just to up the bad person ante, I decided to wear fur. I have an 8 foot white mink stole from the 1950s that I bought when I was still smarting from the death of my cat of 15 years and wanted to wear the embodiment of life’s brutality, fur.
One of my mottos is “Feel Bad? Look Good.” And we did. If you don’t already know that dressing to the nines will get you good treatment then you haven’t really ever dressed up. The staff treated our party extremely well.
The food was eh, but the atmosphere was as close to Vegas as you’re going to get here in SF. I thought the dancers were beautiful, though my husband told me he thought they were all too skinny and said they looked like Iggy Pop.
From our seat in the restaurant we could only see the girls doing their pole work, and got to miss all the writhing on the floor where they highlight their vaginas. Because of that, it was actually quite beautiful.
You, know, when you remove the whole debasement part.
Sometimes sinking low can make me feel better, but next time I wear a gown, it’s going to be for good rather than evil. The Raise the Bar / Gown About Town event is in the making, in conjunction with the great social network A Band of Wives. Check here next Thursday. I hope to have the date and place in next week’s piece.