Just got back from a big shindig in an immense space in Williamsburg. When we got there, various people in the kitchen were topless for no very clear reason. There was one room for dancing and one that seemed to be devoted to drugs. Oh, and there was music playing in the bathroom, which was immense like everything else.
I was wearing a new, miniscule cocktail top hat that Slim gave me for Christmas, which excited much comment from various people, including one scrawny hipster named Pierre who claimed to be in porn, and a guy in a fuzzy leghorn who said I was "an odd bird" and offered to put me in a film; talked about vintage fashion with a gal in a spangled early-60s taffeta, and old-fashioned names with a girl called Edith. Did a little dancing to some soul music in the dancing room with a tall fellow in architect glasses who was actually a pretty strong leader; Slim talked about tailoring with a guy in long underwear and what looked like a turban; then the cops broke things up.