Tuesday, 15 September 2009
Back in Berlin from Rome and Tuscany. Silence is golden or so they say, and my silence is certainly attributable to having had a gilded weekend away. Happened upon the Magick Bar closing party whilst in Rome which saw all the great and the good assembled on the banks of the Tiber for a right royal knees up. Modeled shamelessly on Bar 25, including Americana of all sorts (think beaten up second hand furniture, moose skulls, and quaint little paintings), Magick Bar was by all accounts the fixture of the Roman summer for those "in the know". DJ Giancarlino provided the soundtrack which was pretty much as you would expect - a Latinate version of the funky techno paradigm championed by everyone's favourite bar by the Spree. What was interesting however, was seeing how the Romans filtered Berlin hedonism to meet their own needs. Bar 25 has always borrowed from the British festival template of purposeful wackiness - dressing up, bizarre tombolas, insect Olympics, that sort of shit - but then made it work for Berlin (ie. not closing for 5 days). The Italians' take on this formula was pretty much as you would imagine: everyone dressed up to the nines, waving UV glowsticks, and losing their shit in the only way Italians know how to - in style. It was fun, but not as fun as gorging on Vongole for 5 days. But what is?