Hello, my name is Erica and I hate Boston nightlife.
Anyone who knows me knows that I’m all about positive energy and spreading the gushy love, but I just can’t seem to get over the fact that we live is such a fantastic city, yet our nightlife is so bland. Yes, the 2 a.m. thing sort of kills it around these parts, but there has to be some sort of concerted effort to duplicate the fabulousness that exists in really chic, interesting clubs, lounges, and bars around the world.
I always say that Boston has the makings of a truly cool city but can’t quite figure out the cool part. Maybe it’s an energy thing, maybe it’s our conservative puritan roots holding us back, but seriously, can someone open something fabulous soon — pretty please?
Given all that, you can only imagine my lack of enthusiasm at the thought of covering the Little Black Dress event at Estate. Don’t get me wrong: if anyone has tapped into the nightlife scene in Boston and given us some pretty fun places to party, it’s the Kane brothers (or is it the brothers Kane?). Even so, before heading out, I prepared myself for the worst. I expected scantily-clad hoochie mamas in cheap tube dresses shaking their asses for free drinks; sweaty meatheads in cheesy Ed Hardy shirts spouting really crappy pick up lines, desperate for a piece of ass; and boys that are adorable but so young that the thought of hooking up with them makes me feel like Hester Fester the Child Molester. The list goes on.
Here’s the thing, though: yes, all of these elements were present and accounted for, but I was also pleasantly surprised to find pockets of interesting, well-dressed people in their 30s. I’m not really sure if they were there because the concept of partying in a little black dress is a revolutionary one, or because they were all dying to get a glimpse of host and C-list model/actress April Scott — who, by the way, was the sweetest, chillest, most down-to-earth humble gal ever. Regardless, it certainly seemed like everyone was there to get a mid-week break from the madness and have a little fun dancing the night away. So we don’t have a Pacha, a Les Caves du Roy, a Bungalow 8, or a Soho House — no one seems to want to put a lot of money into mind-blowing, incredible interior design in nightclubs, and we don’t attract A-listers all that often — but we certainly make the most of what we have. Bravo, Boston — I’m not so bitter after all.
Upstairs, Shag owner and DJ Sandy Poirier was spinning and smiling. (He did both marvelously.) I’m no DJ or expert, but my untrained ears thought the music was incredible and it totally got my ass shaking, broken ankle and all. Thanks, smiley Sandy.
And so until we rid ourselves of the ridiculous 2 a.m. closing time and spice up our nightlife scene a bit, I — along with some pretty fabulous companions — will be on the hunt for more nights like this one, where the energy is high, the drinks are flowing, and everyone is having a damn good time. Feel free to let me know about your favorites.
— Erica Corsano
