I know some of you are going to think this is unfair but it's a message board so whoopdity doo to anyone who thinks I'm being unreasonable.
Anyway, System was an okay time but we wanted to check out the Film Lounge since Starr had mentioned that her friend was spinning. Why not, right? 3 am. Ansty. Free parking.
We went into the entrance and a bouncer gave us the lookdown.
Here's what I was wearing:
- olive waxed cotton trousers (versatile, right?)
- white dress shirt from Zara (cost me an arm and a leg)
- black 3/4 coat ($300!)
- Holt Renfrew striped monochromatic scarf
- even my fucking underwear was $30
THE CATCH?
I couldn't get in because I was wearing Pumas. That's right people. The fucking Film Lounge decided to try to play it up like they were some neo-Boho establishment full of chic and rock star fashionista attitude (did you see the pics in Eye when it first opened?)... but all they are is another fucking club with a dress code. And to top it off? My "running shoes" are trendy and I still couldn't get in.
I would've worn my Royal Elastics which look like brown dress shoes but are actually skate shoes and they wouldn't have noticed. So why is it that even though I was wearing clothing and a watch worth more than what the bouncer makes in a month, I couldn't get in? Because I was wearing fucking Pumas.
Stuff like that pisses me off. I don't patron places who judge their customers for their dress. What does Film Lounge know about style? Nothing. The bouncers glasses were cheap knockoffs from Lenscrafters anyway. If they're going to judge me than I'm going to judge them back.
And by the way, the music sounded really lame, the clientele hanging around the entrance looked like pseudo-artsy people (they dress the part but have never read a book in their lives) and the place smelled like urine.
End rant.
Anyway, System was an okay time but we wanted to check out the Film Lounge since Starr had mentioned that her friend was spinning. Why not, right? 3 am. Ansty. Free parking.
We went into the entrance and a bouncer gave us the lookdown.
Here's what I was wearing:
- olive waxed cotton trousers (versatile, right?)
- white dress shirt from Zara (cost me an arm and a leg)
- black 3/4 coat ($300!)
- Holt Renfrew striped monochromatic scarf
- even my fucking underwear was $30
THE CATCH?
I couldn't get in because I was wearing Pumas. That's right people. The fucking Film Lounge decided to try to play it up like they were some neo-Boho establishment full of chic and rock star fashionista attitude (did you see the pics in Eye when it first opened?)... but all they are is another fucking club with a dress code. And to top it off? My "running shoes" are trendy and I still couldn't get in.
I would've worn my Royal Elastics which look like brown dress shoes but are actually skate shoes and they wouldn't have noticed. So why is it that even though I was wearing clothing and a watch worth more than what the bouncer makes in a month, I couldn't get in? Because I was wearing fucking Pumas.
Stuff like that pisses me off. I don't patron places who judge their customers for their dress. What does Film Lounge know about style? Nothing. The bouncers glasses were cheap knockoffs from Lenscrafters anyway. If they're going to judge me than I'm going to judge them back.
And by the way, the music sounded really lame, the clientele hanging around the entrance looked like pseudo-artsy people (they dress the part but have never read a book in their lives) and the place smelled like urine.
End rant.