We owe Choire Sicha a beer for digging up a 5112 word New York Times Magazine piece from 1984 written by an extremely young Maureen Dowd all about, well… staying up all night and clubhopping with Andy Warhol. Seriously. This thing is genius:
On Monday nights, Area offers ”obsession” nightsâ€”with fixations such as sex, pets and body oddities. At a recent ”sex evening,” nude jugglers and whip dancers moved in and out of the crowd while an ex-nun heard sexual confessions in the ladies’ room and an old man played with inflatable dolls in a pool.
This evening, the theme is ”confinement,” and the club is decorated with dolls in pajamas chained under water, a caged rabbit and go-go dancers armed with guns and dressed in Army fatigues.
”Where’s Andy Warhol?” asks a young punk, dragging on a joint and scanning the crowd. ”I want to get a good look at him.”
”I think he went to Limelight,” says his friend. At Limelight, a church- turned-club on the Avenue of the Americas at 20th Street, halolike arcs of light stream from stained-glass windows.
”We should go there,” says someone else.
”We should go there immediately,” says another.
They scurry off to Limelight, unaware that their quarry, wearing corduroys and a backpack, is standing unobtrusively at the bar.
”This is the best bar in town,” Andy Warhol says. ”You could take everything out and put it in a gallery.”
Just-getting-started-in-the-industry MoDowd before she started fudging datelines rocked. You can’t make this kind of stuff up, people.
Sicha is guest-blogging at kottke.org this week.