We Clean Up Well
You know this party needed preparation. I just told you. And not only from me. This one had been in the works for months.
I think it was sometime before summer when Mako first told me he wanted to open a jazz club for Valmoor. A great idea, I told him. There’s a time and place for everything in our world. Some nights you need thumping beats in a dark room where conversation is neither possible nor that desirable. Sometimes you want a live performance. And then there are nights for jazz, blues and those other sounds that seem to find parts of you considerably deeper than your hips. Things that feed the soul.
So Mako set out to build exactly that. Every time I heard him talk about it over the following months, I could feel his enthusiasm growing. Ideas became plans, plans became details and, about two weeks ago, he finally invited me to see the place he’d been working on.
I have no idea what was there before, but by the time I first laid eyes on it, it already felt as though it had always been there.
The Blue Note was everything I had heard him describe. Small, intimate, warm and elegant. A room made for music, conversation and being close enough to whoever happens to be standing next to you.
And yesterday, we came for the opening night.
If you’ve spent any time on these pages, you may have noticed that we are quite an adaptable bunch. You’ve seen us in leather. Latex. Swimwear. Things that qualify as clothing only because the creator put them in the clothing section. You’ve seen us underground, on rooftops, in caves, warehouses and places where the lighting was probably intentionally kept low for legal reasons.
Still, I wasn’t quite prepared for what happened when everyone arrived at the Blue Note. My God.
We clean up well.
Beneath all the bad behaviour, recreational chemistry and public indecency, we are an extraordinarily attractive, gorgeous and impeccably dressed collection of people when we need to be.
Who knew?
This was us at our best. The Blue Note filled quickly. Then it filled some more. Before long, the little club was packed so tightly I could barely move an inch. Which, under different circumstances, might have led to an entirely different story.
But I didn’t need to move. DJ Lili was delivering a perfect set, there was nowhere else to be.
For one evening, before we inevitably find ourselves back in underground clubs, cheap hotel rooms or passed out in our own beds, everybody showed up looking magnificent. And Mako’s idea, the one he had talked about months ago, was suddenly no longer an idea. It was a room full of people.
It was music.
It was alive.
Welcome to The Blue Note.
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This post is not sponsored or paid for in any way. I was also not blackmailed or tortured to write it.
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