Cat Marnell, Author "How To Murder Your Life"
There are plenty of bars, like Lit Lounge, that I loved and miss, but of course my heart belongs to nightclubs. Downtown nightlife six months after 9/11 was white-hot; the clubs were amazing, and I was nineteen and out six nights a week. I wish I could give you even a vaguely accurate schedule from, like, April 2002.
I THINK it was Butter Sundays, Lot 61 or Lotus Mondays, Pangaea Tuesdays, Bowery Barand Pangaea Wednesdays, Veruka Thursdays... Halo, Groovejet, SPA, Sway... I’m forgetting fifty more, of course. My favorite of them all time was Pangaea on Lafayette Street. Butter was right next door.
There was—unofficially but assuredly—free champagne and coke for a teenage girl like me; Puff Daddy would manhandle you as you squished past him through the crowd to find your party friends. The couches were squishy and white as clouds. There were hidden rooms and live “African drummers” (you know what I mean) beating along with the best DJs. It always felt like the whole party could change into a bacchanalian orgy at any time. Heaven!
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