Saturday night for SanDiegoClubs.com I photographed the opening of Halogen, an expensive slick dance club intended to be exclusive. That exclusivity is to be assured by strict enforcement of a dress code (not specified anywhere) and of course a rather high admission fee. The promoter had run another fancy club up in Del Mar that attracted the kids with Daddy's Porsche and Mommy's cosmetic surgeon. That one folded due to a big ecstacy bust. The latest attempt is in the Gaslamp Quarter, and is an attractive venue with the dancefloor, a lounge area and a quiet little wine bar off to the side which is populated exclusively with pretty girls who have decided that the pickings are slim among the slick-haired lounge lizards and already-taken dancing boys.

In terms of money, admission to this place was worth more than the fee I was getting to shoot it. So I was curious about value for dollar. I'm a big fan of the little floors with $3 doors and a DJ that sweats on his tables, so I entered this one with predjudice.

In fact, the music was OK, even though it was all familiar. The DJ had played at Bombay a few weeks ago wearing a snowball bra but only attracted the vogue boys with her music there. Here she was in her groove and had a beatific smile showing gums all the way to her nostrils. The stage dancer (who had also worn a snowball bra and a cotton-candy wig at the other place) was wearing what appeared to be everywhichway stretch riding breeches with Princess Leia (sp?) hair and a tight backless top and danced expertly and was gorgeous. She came down and talked to me for half an hour or more about living in the club scene - partying with the DJs, performing at the clubs. I talked to her about her perfect butt. Neither she nor the DJ intend to give up their dayjobs, as club employment is like dandelion fluff. She invited me to shoot two other clubs she's doing in the next two weeks, but I'll probably have other stuff assigned. My Sign On editor was there and I dropped a hint, but she has her own priorities, so we'll see.

Lighting was all green spots off a mirror ball. Haven't seen the film yet, but they didn't give me a whole lot to work with. Pushed the film to ASA 2500 hoping to pick up some of the other stray lights and not depend only on the green.

Someone tugged on my shirt as I was wading out amongst the dancers. A short blonde girl recognized me from a fetish party I'd done about a year ago. She and another girl had been piled up with one guy in the corner. The picture's somewhere under "Sanctuary" on my clubs page. She invited me to an afterhours party - that started at 6AM! I declined, but it's a regular thing, so some Sunday morning when I don't have anything else to do I may drop in on a bunch of long-term partiers who smell like teen spirit and cigarettes and ...nah. Not gonna happen.

Pleasantly bumped into a beautiful tall statuesque black girl I'd photographed the week before. She was all smiles and booze and dance muscles. Ran into her again on the floor and she hugged me nicely. (Actually that's when I found out the part about "dance muscles.") Don't know what that was all about, but I liked it. Blew the last frame on one half of her face. She hugged me again. Maybe I'm like a teddy bear to some people - well, girls. Gee, I hope so....

Around 1AM I was done shooting. If I like a place a lot, I'll stick around a little and watch and schmooze, but I guess this wasn't one of those places, so I left, walking past the thugs at the door and crossing the street to Cafe Bassam (one of those mystical places that's always open when needed, and always closed when not). I sat outside sipping overpriced Arabica, radiating off some excess heat, talking to a couple of my kids' high school classmates that were filling out employment forms for busing a nearby restaurant, when the dancer in the riding breeches walked by alone, stopping long enough to remark that I seem to be everywhere and giving me a smile and a wink that just added to that excess heat I was trying to radiate off, then she continued her one-woman parade down the sidewalk now with three sets of eyes watching and the kids in wonder that their friends' Dad knows angels in riding breeches.

Then I went home.

-Don