So between desperately trying to dry off and googling 24 hour laundrettes in euston/dalston just in case , as white shirts plus water are not a good look unless you're female and fairly nubile. One thing i did find out in my travels is Boots in Euston does sell umbrellas but at £15 pound a go. I decided to risk more rain. I also found out that no one sells towels after 6pm or no shops that sell towels are open to be more accurate. I did however find a general store that sold me a red and white tea towel for 99p . With which i was able at least able to make myself more human.
This was my first trip to Dalston and it appears fairly cosmopolitan and from the shop fronts i guess there is a substantil Turkish population. So we met up at Bar 23 , a pleasant open fronted bar with some vintage touches in an old gramophone and a vintage radio on display. Also Rekordeling at a reasonable £4 a bottle another drink where you cant taste the alcohol.
Now don't know why as normally a couple of drinks make me feel quite merry but maybe it was the unexpected drenching but the alcohol didnt seem to have the desired effect . After a brief burst of 80's pop from the bars resident DJ rendered somewhat surreal by our 1920's attire (maybe a niche their 70's clothing to 1940's music or vice versa , mix and match club nights.) we made our way down to Dalston Boys club.
The entrance is on what would appear to be an average residential street in fact we weren't sure which direction to turn until the bouncers ushered us over. How could they tell !!
The interior was basically a church hall in form, a description which does not do the decorations any justice. From the stuffed fox to the painting to the creepy doll peering down from the mezzanine , to the wooden sideboard doing duty as a bar . As Jamina pointed out the place had a feel of an Evelyn Waugh novel . It could have been a 1920's party full of young and carefree London aristocrats and bohemians. In fact the events host known for the evening as Baron Von Sanderson could have stepped out of the pages of a Waugh or PG Wodehouse novel . Heir to a fortune , organising bashes for his friends and hangers on.
The hall was a private residence so when in search of cooler environs we descended to the basement we discovered an indoor smoking area , a shock which goes to prove how effective the smoking ban has been and how are expectations have changed. A dark smoke filled basement with vintage porn from presumably the 1920's playing on a roughly whitewashed wall . While cooler the smoke son drove me back up the decidely rickety stairs
The entertainment was spread through out the evening every 15 minutes in the same way manana means tomorrow in Spanish. Starting with a chanteuse who did some to start off depressing songs before moving into some more upbeat numbers the entertainment grew more risque and more visible as the numbers thinned out. We were treated to a variety of burlesque acts including a fire eater, a strip tease act , although they were all strip tease acts but I suppose in the words of "Gypsy" In burlesque "you gotta have a gimmick" The climax was a rendition of salome involving a grotesque decapitated head fortunately fake lots and lots of glitter fans and angel wings.
In capturing a louche , decadent night the effect had been achieved, I had a good night despite the alcohol having worn off. Although it did mean that I wasn't tipsy enough to essay the more risque part of my costume taking the safe option. But there's always next time. I hadn't dared wear it on public transport and when we arrived onsite the toilet facilities were very limited and i didn't want to go in there and get changed in fact the less time spent in the toilets the better particularly by the end of the night.
As you may notice I have managed to work out how to get photos from my phone onto here . So for your delight and delectation some rather risque photos of the nights entertainment entirely in keeping with the feel of the night.