Loss, An Evening of Exquisite Misery

With some excitement, if not trepidation, armed with noms de guerre and a range of costume strategies, myself and the lovely Persephone and Michelangelo found ourselves in the curiously wonderful world of The Last Tuesday Society.

Persephone and Michelangelo, scaring the tourists and Christmas shoppers

Loss, An Evening of Exquisite Misery, is London’s, if not the world’s, premier crying club. On arrival at the Art’s Theatre we were reminded in strict terms of the official no smiling policy. A pigs head hanging from a noose above the stairs reinforced the message. The place was decorated with tables overflowing with fruit, turnips, onions, water pistols, deceased game birds and plastic bugs. Abused and battered children’s toys sought new, caring owners. A lady in funereal weeds was selling off the family jewellery.

Virtual deguerreotype of Persephone

We took our place amongst Victorian gentlemen, veiled Victorian widows, Victorian gothics, Goths, the undead, clerics, flappers and slappers, tiller girls and landgirls, 50’s rockabillies, romantics, new romantics, old romantics, sad poets, boys dressed as girls, girls dressed as boys, motorcycle Burlesque performers, and who knows what dressed as who knows what.

We were entertained by divine pixie dj’s and djs in full Marie Antoinette costume. We danced (or attempted to) to big band swing, gospel, tango, and I can’t remember what else but it was marvellous and seemed to cover every period of recorded music ever made. We enjoyed poetry readings, a tantric violinist, a singer songwriter telling bible tales, a ska-punk-Balkan band doing Prodigy covers, and an excellent blues/jazz/dub combo. I’m sure there was a lot more if only I could remember.

Divine pixie djs

We drank too much gin.

Gin Drinkers

We found ourselves wearing too much make-up (again).

I found myself back home at 4 in the morning feeling very weird indeed.

some people say I'm a dreamer. but I'm not the only one.