Do you remember those jeans, I think Guess made them, that were really popular around the same time that Guns'n'Roses was, like, totally awesome? They were dark denim, but bleached out completely in certain sections so that the fabric became this oversized blue and white marble design. He was wearing those last night with an orange plaid short-sleeved shirt, a messenger bag and those shoes that his countrymen refer to as trainers. We should probably call them trainers too, because, really, how often do we actually play tennis in tennis shoes or sneak about in sneakers? The messenger bag made Carlos and I chuckle because, only a few hours earlier, we were having this discussion about the popularity of messenger bags amongst guys who aren't American. For example, on a college campus, the guy with messenger back is, nine times out of ten, an international student. American dudes still Jansport it, usually with band patches or some sort of skaterboy mark accessorizing the knapsack.
I saw him as we stood on opposite sides of the doorway. A girl with so much dark, curly hair that it almost obscured her face was motioning for his attention. He would walk towards her and throw an arm around her waist, but for a five-second interim, I stood face-to-face with Andy Bell. Andy Bell, whose baby-face and wavy blonde hair make him appear much younger than anyone who has been in a legendary synthpop band since Carlos and I were of the age where our greatest concern was getting home from school in time to watch You Can't Do That on Television. Andy Bell, whose choirboy voice made Wonderland a heartbreaking work. Andy Bell, who made me like ABBA when I thought I was too cool for 1970s pop.
Now, if only we could see Vince Clarke.
We walked around Citizen Smith, a posh bistro down the street from the Beauty Bar on Cahuenga, that is part upscale dinner and drinks, part hipster. Minnie, who I met years ago when she was a regular at Transmission, helped put together an Erasure afterparty with what I think is the restaurant/club's regular Wednesday night promotion. We ran into her as we walked around. Minnie told us how well all the songs translated into an acoustic set at John Anson Ford. I could only think of "Oh, L'amour." Then she introduced to Ben, who is drumming for Erasure. We had a nice chat, much of which was concerning the amount of birthday parties that were going on inside this establishment. Every five minutes, some group of people in office casual would burst into song and the waiters would arrive with trays of cake. Dark chocolate cake with thick white frosting, the kind that makes you think you might turn into Cornholio after two bites.
We left not too long after that, taking one more walk through the crowds. We never saw Vince Clarke, but we had a great night nonetheless.