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A Broad View #6
Winter in Manhattan
Spring is in the air and in America, that means Spring Break.
While that may conjure images of Frankie Avalon on a surfboard for
many, what it's come to mean in these modern times is mobs of teenagers
on a beach, bombed out of their minds. I was lucky enough to be down in
Cancun, Mexico, at the same time thosands of college kids descended
upon the resort city, where I got to see the festivities up close and
personal. The highlights of these week-long beer blasts, aside from the
beer that's liberally served to students who aren't of legal age in the
ol' U.S of A., appear to be the wet T-shirt contests. I witnessed one
and may I say it was more of a "What T-shirt?" contest. Naked co-eds
shimmied suggestively before a screaming throng of Abercrombie &
Fitch-clad admirers, eschewing their soggy shirts within seconds in
favor of going au natural. They all looked equally good to me, and the
crowds' hoots and applause were equally loud for all the competitors,
but one woman did win. I believe her prize was a bottle of tequila. All
the better to get further lubricated for the other hightlight of the
spring ritual: hookin' up. If winning the West T-Shirt Contest doesn't
get ya laid, perhaps the No Limits Toga Party will!
News is finally out about the fallout at the annual Consumer
Electronics Show. Adult Video News, the porn industry's foremost trade
publication, decided to throw their own show this year, in conjunction
with their electronic media convention, and this resulted in a mass
exodus of conventioneers from the adult section of CES. And it also
meant that thousands of battery salesmen, cell phone shillers and other
people actually involved in real consumer electronics were denied their
pilgrimage to the Sands for Polaroids with pneumatically enhanced porn
stars and autographs from strippers. Rather than queing up for hours to
be admitted into the adult area of CES, anyone interested in seeing the
sexy stuff was forced to fork over a separate entry fee and trek to a
separate venue. It was all very AVN and very, very unAmerican! It was
also the first year I stayed home, too confused about where to go and
which badge to buy. I'll let you all know how it goes next year.
The battle of the Manhattan S&M restaurants has ended, with only
one establishment left standing. La Nouvelle Justine was the city's
first dining room-cum-dungeon, debuting four years ago on West 23rd St.
After a kinky coup by a former busboy, La Nouvelle Justine was taken
over and transformed into La Maison deSade. In order to preserve the
archetype, and give that former busboy some stiff competition, the
original owner opened a nouvelle La Nouvelle Justine in the East
Village, adjacent to her other eatery, the Asian drag dining
establishment Lucky Cheng's. The dueling restauranteurs went on
national television to dispute ownership of the mold for the famous
chocolate shoe dessert in People's Court, giving dominatrixes and drag
queens some valuable prime time exposure, but doing little to settle
the spat. And for a while there were two, so shaved-chested boys who
like to work in leather thongs had a choice of where they could wait
tables. But when a would-be domina stuffed her panties into an off-duty
cop's mouth, it was curtains for the uptown SM spot. Now if you want to
see a few spankings while you're eating your steak, the only place you
can do it as at the downtown La Nouvelle Justine.
With a semi-adventurous menu of steak frites, chicken, fish and, of
course, the mousse-filled chocolate shoe, the food is actually quite
good. But that's not why the bacherlorette and birthday parties flock.
No, it's to see their friends be spanked, flogged, whipped, verbally
abused, fed from a dog bowl or otherwise publicly humiliated. It's
dinner and a show! With audience participation! And one helluva lot
cheaper than an hour with a real domme, which can run you up to $250
these days.
The nightspot serves up more than mere restaurant fare these days, with
numerous goth/industrial/fetish themed evenings that draw all the
deviant downtown nightcrawlers and a Saturday rock party that starts at
midnight. I've even thrown a party there myself, releasing the
appropriately titled Bondage Issue of Extreme Fetish there last year.
In fact, I'm on my way over there right now! See you next time!
[Written Jan. 2000, I think!]
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