Some kind of underground throwback – hoods dressing like ’30’s movie gangsters; taggers putting up bespoke swells in boss hats. The alleys seemed odd on those days, like movie sets that had sprung up out of nowhere and without notice. Maybe that was it, who knows. lots of things happened in the alleys back then, before the city cleaned the places out. Model shoots and music videos, impromptu parties, and sure, movies as well. They were keen to film those old time scenes while the old time buildings were still there, crumbling brick and missing mortar. The costumed feel was not an hallucination. Lots of actors and poseurs dressed up as if from another time, scattering about in the shadows, and memorialized on the alley walls.
That hat, or the girl with that hat, is what one remembers. How she spun it around on her finger like a circus act, and your eye would follow its turning until it dissolved into the light show and the beat of the music and all this together was that good kind of dizzy.
Arms and legs and that hat – from a distance it all could look like one animal, pushing in a hundred different directions, but in rhythm. That boom boom boom that moved us all. The D.J. is king for a set or two, a few hours at least before the hats go back in the closet, the animal breaks off into separate lives, and daylight comes.
The break in the neon darkness saved many lives; still, all that everyone wanted was another night.