blasblog: young and younger
I know of two surefire ways to immediately make myself feel old and pathetic. One is try to do that 8 a.m. yoga class at my local gym (I tried it once, failed, and now even thinking about it makes me feel old and pathetic). My second method is to hang out with girls who were born in the nineties. Yesterday evening, at the sweaty dance fest that has become Wednesday nights at Lit—a phenomenon that’s due in no small part to resident DJs Harley Viera Newton and Cassie Coane, who are quickly assuming a spinning monopoly of downtown events—it was all about the latter. Joining me and Chrissie Miller of Sophomore (like me, not born in the nineties) were Cory Kennedy and Peaches Geldof, the latter of whom was proudly showing off a daisy ivy tattoo that ran down her body, “from tit to knee.” Throughout the evening, Geldof was happy to point out she’s much older than her age may suggest: She was actually born late in 1989 and is, ahem, a married woman. “That’s right,” she said with a smile, flashing a ring and referring to an August wedding in Vegas. “A few months ago to this handsome gentleman called Max from a band called Chester French.” Ah, young love. I have made no attempt to hide my infatuation with youth—I will so be that guy sleeping outside the cinema when High School Musical 3: Senior Year hits theaters—and it seems I’m not alone in thinking this little venue is the place to score with the kids. In the back of Lit is a gallery, which last night was turned into a makeshift casting ground for a future, no doubt naked-kid-filled Ryan McGinley project.
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