Holly GoNightly
February 29, 2008
I’m walking up to the door of Marquee, and between the hipster club kids that glide right in and the shiny Guido’s yelling from the line, I can’t help but feel that combination of indignation and excitement that only nightclubs can provoke. Lately, I have been feeling quite domestic—induced, no doubt, by the freezing temperature—but seeing doorman Wass orchestrating the event in slick leather reminds me that nightlife is better spent bar-hopping on the buzzing streets than between the sheets.
Confession: I have always had an ardent love affair with the ever-popular Marquee, despite the constant condemnation by friends who wouldn’t be caught dead in a setting that didn’t pose the possibility of seeing an Olsen twin. I have also had a relatively similar love for pop star Ashlee Simpson, despite the fact that no assemblage of leather jackets or stringy hair will ever make her an Olsen twin.
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