We met before hand at my neighbor Maureen’s house. We were supposed to host but were still without power from last week’s wind storm. We dined on some 70’s snacks including chips and dip and Bugles. I made a cocktail which I called The Hustle. (Malibu rum, toasted coconut seltzer, and pineapple/passion fruit juice. There was nothing 70’s about it. Those were just some random ingredients I had around the house.)
Several friends had purchased some really fun disco costumes at the party store. The rest wore Goodwill throwbacks. There was a lot of blue eye shadow and winged hair among the women. White belts among the men. And more than one pair of platform shoes. (My clever friend Sarah bought brown ones for $4 at Goodwill and spray painted them silver.) My boss, also a good friend and neighbor, bought some ladies winter-white slacks at the Goodwill. Size 18W.
As we approached the door of The State, Sarah worried that no one else would be dressed up. Her fears were immediately allayed when we entered. It’s hard to say what percentage of guests dressed up that night, but one look at the dance floor crowd and you’d have thought you traveled back in time. The band was talented, versatile, and well-dressed! One mystery woman strutted across the stage all night with no apparent job except to strut across the stage. I think she may have played the tambourine for one or two songs and I wondered if she’d won some sort of contest to “play” with the band.
We hustled, we did the john Travolta finger point, we freaked (se chic), but mostly we laughed. We had, all of us, lived through the 70’s. It was funny to see them again through our crow-footed eyes. I’m not sure what Jeff saw from his perch that night. He never did join us on the dance floor, even when his wife won the dance contest. He probably thought we all looked quite silly.