All words and photos: Dakota Fine
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True to form, Nouveau Riche returned to DC9 this past Saturday night. On top of it being the most humid day ever, it also happened to be the night that everyone and their mothers decided to descend upon DC9 because Nouveau Riche was THE party to be at. I started out the night anticipating going to the Black Cat first for Will Eastman’s Bliss, but never made it because I got like 7 different texts/voicemails from people telling me they were going to Nouveau. Sometimes the planets just align I guess.
Immediately, upon hitting the upstairs, it was like I walked into a wall of heat. It felt like someone had left the oven on 450 all day. The sweat started pouring off my face instantly; the air was so thick, I think I might have even begun levitating. Someone, I forget who now, commented that walking up the stairs you could feel the difference in temperature from one step to the other. Oh yeah, and there was a RIDICULOUS line, it was so crowded.
We had a little model runway to the bathroom interlude, strut your shit gurrrl.
Nothing hotter than a girl with a mustache, but that’s just me…
This reminds me of some kind of twisted cartoon character, but I don’t remember who at the moment… suggestions welcomed.
And then there was the Sparks slamfest, perhaps my favorite incident of the evening. Until Bill came over and yelled at these guys to stop destoying his lamp which they were tugging on. Sorry Bill.
Apparently Sparks stains not only your teeth and tongue, but your face as well, go figure.
And I leave you with naked, sweaty men. I mean, what else? New rule: it’s not a Nouveau party unless somebody takes their shirt off. Hats off the the Nouveau doods for killing it once again.