Oh Gay Pareee
It has been far to long since the last time I have blogged about my globe trotting rediculousness. I have missed entries on entire countries that I’ve visited; but after last nights StyleBoston event at the Four Seasons I have been inspired to start blogging again. So here I go as I sit here in the comfort of my Moon Boots…I think I will start with New Years.
Anyone that knows me, knows that I have pretty much only one solid rule in my life. I will never spend an entire 365 days on US soil. As New Years rolled around and I was approaching day 362 I knew I had to make moves. So I decided to go to Paris with some friends (two of who I hadn’t met before) to Paris. We flew in from Geneva, Philly, New York and Boston…excessive to say the least. 3 of the 4 of us had already been to Paris before so we were past all the touristy stuff except for a brief trip to Versailles…then the rest of the trip was about the clubbing, wine, food, and of course countless hours spent in Le Marais.
Actual mid-night on New Years was not entirely thrilling…just 4 friends passing around champagne watching the Eiffel sparkle. Ok so I guess that was pretty cool…but it’s the events that happened after that are really memorable.
We ended up going a club called Le Java…part cafe/part basement jam band club. The crowd was
quite young (15-16ish) and there was a lot of insane fashion choices. There were drag queens and trannies as far as the eye could see. Two of the members of our group decided to leave early, but having paid 20 Euros to get in G and I wanted to stay and dance the night away hopped up on Strawberry Red Bull Vodkas. At some point in all the crazy confusion of dancing on stage while the band played rock music with a techno DJ supporting them (questionable I know) shirts started coming off, I made out with what I believe was a tranny-hot-messand my friends obvi, and then all of a sudden my tinsel (yes. i own pants made out of tinsel) pants ripped right down the right side of my ass…but clearly I was determined to have a good time and not let that stop me. Thank god I was wearing black underwear and not something heinous! 15 minutes later at G and I went to grab yet another cocktail we were approached by
two 40ish year old gentleman offering us ecstasy and 200 euros to sleep with them…because apparently I now looked like a prostitute (life goal complete). I politely declined but then was
scoffed at by the gentleman because apparently 100 euros is the going rate…so now I am a
‘high-class’ prostitute. WIN! We continued to dance thenight away unphased until7am…because clearly we did not go home before 6:30 this whole trip. And being the good American’s that we are, what did we decide to have for our first meal of 2011? MacDoe as the French call it…yes that is McDonalds…but hey…at least it can only go up from here?
We spent the rest of the week visiting the Louvre (which I rocked
in an epic fur ensamble) and frequenting a bar/club called Raidd. I’m not sure that I’ve ever been more conflicted about a drinking establishment in my life. The people we met there were phenomenal and the drinks cheap…but then there were men
showering in the walls? Legit there was a plexiglass wall with a shower in it right above the dance floor where gorgeous men would getin and just…shower. At first I thought it was cute; some of them would flex and some would dance…but then…they started to take the spedos off. Now don’t get me wrong. I am all for nudity and think the human body is a gorgeous thing…but I do not…I DO NOT…need to see you jacking off while I’m trying to mingle and get my drink on. Just not my cup of tea darling. Needless to say that was not my favorite hotspot in Paris…even if we did end up there 3 times lol.
Our last full night in Paris it was back to just G and I wanting to be out. It was Sunday night and we had heard nothing but RAVE reviews of the mega-club Queen, so we had to check it out. After trying our hardest to just stay in and be responsible we ended up getting to the club around 3am. With no line outside we were not expecting much, and at 20 euros a pop we were prepared to be pretty underwhelmed…but after descending the stairs in to the enormous basement dance floor our minds were blown. There were hundreds of young, sweaty, barely clothed men grinding to the DJ. We had found heaven 🙂 . G and I spent hours sloppily and 
aggressively grinding with our shirts off…neither one of us is quite sure what happened that night but we both woke up covered in scratches and bruises…one of which I still have on my leg today…3 weeks later? One of the most phenomenal and unexpected aspects of Queen is that their drinks come with lids so all the rave kids can go hard without having to worry about spilling…but hey when two Vodka Red
Bulls cost 35 euros I expect to be treated to an adult sippy cup. After a few hours of debauchery it was back to the hotel room, which conveniently had a see-
through shower as well…which lead to nothing good 😉
All-in-all it was an amazing trip. Quite different from the last time I went to Paris for fashion week, but I think I have a new appreciation for the city of love. I will be back soon Paris. Don’t forget about me!
Until next time. Stay fashionable, and rock your OWN style!
Life is a Runway by DHSivad 