Scene and be seen
BY Zee, Plume.sg 11/01/2007
 

 
The music pounded on, throbbing in your ears as you weave your way from the entrance to the bar. Good-looking men are aplenty, standing around; smoking, leaning into each other’s ears to say something and ordering their drinks. Looking up in the near distance, you see green lasers beam from across the club, capturing the fog in its wake and dancing on half a dozen sweaty bodies on the podium, licking the glistening torsos in short, sprightly spurts. You squeeze your way past the crowd and stood at the edge of the dance floor to let your glazed eyes drink in the sight of hundreds of gay men cavorting happily in the club’s atmosphere.
 

 
“Welcome!” your friend grins impishly, “to the house of sin.”

That was the same thing a friend said to me on my virgin trip to a gay club slightly less than two years ago, except that the scenario, which greeted me at Happy, wasn’t as expansive as what I described above. And if you were sharp (or if you’ve been there) you’d know that I was describing the scene at Powerhouse (St James Power Station) where Fabulous Sundays take place.

Virgin trips to a clubbing experience are always memorable. Alas, Happy closed its doors for good with a final New Year’s Eve party and I’m guilty of not having any intention to have dropped by because I’ve had so many good memories there. Instead, I chose to party in the New Year at The Clinic, a spanking brand new club at Clarke Quay.

It was when the DJ spinning at Morphine (the dance club room on the first floor) played ‘Love Generation’ by Bob Sinclair that triggered the flow of memories of the good times I’ve had. That song has always reminded me of Happy, and almost instantly, I was washed with a distinct tinge of sadness; that the club which was always there during my early coming out years was suddenly gone.

Clubs are unique to gay persons in different ways from straights. For one, it was one of the few avenues we could meet, socialize and mingle with other gay people who are otherwise scattered around in everyday living. And not to forget what Stonewall is now known as.

For a young person like myself, a night at Happy (or any other gay club) was a form of escape from the closeted reality that awaited me the next day. Slightly less than two years ago, it was THE club I ran to on weekends. It was like being transported into a parallel gay universe where straight people didn’t exist and proved to be a form of validation for me. The emotional baggage I lugged around melted as a lot of it had to do with wrestling with my sexuality and that I was part of the norm in numbers for one night, after spending my whole life around straight people.

In short, it was the place where I can be me and not feel like a freak.

The novelty of going to a gay club soon wore off. Other gay clubs were unfortunately not to my liking. I stopped needing the validation for my sexuality as time went by. My taste in house music blossomed and I found myself making Velvet Underground at Zouk my new clubbing home.

It took a while to get used to the fact that people were so hostile and that I couldn’t ‘be gay’ in mainstream clubs. I can’t hold another guy’s hand or dance with him without singling out attention for myself – and unlike the much talked about publicity kiss between A-Do and JJ Lin (oh look, I’m helping them to publicise it too), if I were to repeat that, I’d just get blatant stares like I was a zoo exhibit.

But make no mistake, I’ve never shied away from ‘being gay’ in a clubbing environment though my inhibitions of being the odd one out is still there. I seem to keep pushing for my social space wherever I go, with or without the booze and I admit it can sometimes be tiring.

That night I clubbed at The Clinic, we left when the next song after 'Love Generation' came on. The nostalgic mood at the loss of the club I used to go manifested itself as we left the rooms still thumping to the music. I got reminded especially how my emotional baggage seemed to disappear after paying for the cover charge at Happy.

Cheekily, I asked the girl working at the baggage counter while my friends collected their bags, “Can I leave my emotional baggage here the next time I come?”

She laughed and smiled, “No.”

I miss gay clubs, I thought to myself. The next night, I headed for the New Year edition of Fabulous Sundays, which was a mind blowing, sensory experience. And I remembered what it was like, once again, to club with no inhibitions. Even though Velvet feels like home, it feels that way because I built up the familiarity over time with the people, the place, the bartenders and the music. The moment I stepped into Powerhouse on the other hand, I felt an instant familiarity and a certain homeliness, which I can’t quite place a finger on. I experienced a mini epiphany; that no matter how many chichi clubs open and close, no matter what type of music I like, nothing beats being able to be myself to have an exhilarating night.

And what an amazing night it was.

“The next night, I headed for the New Year edition of Fabulous Sundays, which was a mind blowing, sensory experience. And I remembered what it was like, once again, to club with no inhibitions.”