Pimps on Parade in Gotham
When Eric Clapton was in New York recently, he asked if there was anywhere to go at night besides the Club 82 or Max’s. When told that there really wasn’t (he’s not the sort to go shlepping around to black discos, even if Bowie is), he sadly replied, “Well, I guess it’s just my apartment, then.”
Pimps on Parade in Gotham
ELEGANZA
Lisa Robinson
When Eric Clapton was in New York recently, he asked if there was anywhere to go at night besides the Club 82 or Max’s. When told that there really wasn’t (he’s not the sort to go shlepping around to black discos, even if Bowie is), he sadly replied, “Well, I guess it’s just my apartment, then.”
I’ve been seriously thinking fox some time about alternatives to places like the 82 or Max’s... a substitute club of your choice in city of your,choice, I’m sure the problems must be the same. Where do you go when it’s late at night and you want something to drink, eat, companionship, romance? Consider,' for example, your lonely rockstar. Especially British rockstar (for they’re so in again this year), On The Road. Away from wife, girlfriend, children, family, home, rolling English countryside, beerstenched Speakeasy, whatever. He’s faced with a battery of 8 A.M. wakeup calls, Holiday Inns, airports, plastic cups filled with bloody marys, fake scrambled eggs, radio station interviews, cramped dressing rooms filled with people he doesn’t know and doesn’t necessarily want to talk to. And — that’s really not the worst of it, friends.