Miracle 1 – Summer
Summer arrived on a Friday, two weeks ago, around 7H30 pm. As it usually happens here, it came suddenly, did not excuse for its long absence and immediately, with a careless gesture, took off my leggings and jacket.
An hour later I was going out for my first 2013 Brussels summer night. The Croatian Accession party at Aloft did not enjoy great attendance inside. Outside people were having cocktails, there was a barbecue and a DJ was trying to start the party with trendy disco hits. I noticed during the following days that barbecue is considered to be a great interest trigger this summer – they offer it at many outdoor places and events. Somehow however the idea of being exposed to the intense smell of grilled meat and – even more – to have it soaked in my hair and clothes is largely not appealing to me.
So I moved in the direction to the other advertised party – EuroBubble at Place Luxembourg. The square, and especially the bar where the party was taking place, was very animated with standing people having drinks and with disco music of which, again, a DJ was in charge. It was not difficult to guess that some of the people had started the party a lot earlier. The atmosphere was overall pleasant and relaxed.
At some point a special bus without doors appeared. Its roof was turned into a platform where passengers were gathering to be taken to Bruxelles les Bains to continue partying on a boat cruise till 4 am. Many of the people around joined, bought drinks inside instead of tickets and were off for a long night on the canal.
Summer has been very generous to Brussels ever since.
Miracle 2 – Spirito
Yes, I do mean Spirito Martini, the divine club, the “church for selected ones”. Those of you who follow my blog would remember that a few months ago my first attempt to enter its realm ended up with a failure. But nevertheless I kept the “I’ll be back” spirit. I did not look for another opportunity since I knew that sooner or later it will find me. And it did. The Saturday, following the first real summer night.
The Secret Nights party at Loft did not turn into a success during the couple of hours I spent there. But then the person I was with suggested for us to go to Spirito Martini where he was a regular visitor. I immediately saw my chance to slink in with an insider and didn’t need to be convinced. And even though he didn’t say anything like “Open Sezam”, the doors of the holy place were widely opened in front of us. Already at the inside door I was stopped by the doorman and asked to take off my cardigan and leave it at the dressing room. “Why?” I asked him. “These are the rules”, he said. “No problem, I will leave it. But I am just curious why”. “I don’t know. But these are the rules. You must leave it”. At this point Spirito Martini was raised in my eyes to more than just a club – it could have been a perfect setting for a Kafka’s novel as well.
And there I was.
The club looked nice but not as impressive nor as big as it appears on the photos on their website. It was not crowded either even though the dance floor was full of people. More precisely, very young girls in dresses and make up who every so often came together and took group pictures of themselves. It felt like a high school graduation party. There were also the older guys who desperately tried to look a lot younger while observing the girls with hungry eyes. There were as well those other girls who were slightly older (in their 20s) and danced in an explicitly sexual way. Not to miss the two divas in black who were hired by Spirito to dance on a little stage. Their dresses were long in its one end and short enough in the other to reveal their bikini as they were dancing. This was causing a problem to the guys attention span, now being drawn in three directions. The challenges of the night life. Each time when someone was ordering cava, the waiters were bringing flares to the whole group so the whole thing looked very celebrative. Once in a while white confetti was thrown up towards the high ceiling and then falling over the heads of the dancing folks like huge snowflakes. The club’s photographer was taking pictures all the time so that they can show their website how great fun people have there.
To sum it up: the spirit of Spirito was the one of deliberate joy, of performed celebration, of searched for (but not found) exclusiveness. As I rightly had expected I did not belong there. It was interesting however for once to experience its shallow glamour.
P.S. I did return there though last night. It was even more empty and most of the visitors were again very young, looking like secondary school graduates. Still, if you wish to see this popular club, summer seems to be the best time in terms of accessing it. The Guardian–lady is not there and they, by all means, need more visitors. And, in my opinion, more varied ones.