By Spencer Wilking
By Christina Black
By Calum Marsh
By J. Pablo
By Phillip Mlynar
By Jenna Sauers
By Brian McManus
By Elliott Sharp
I called former Cock co-owner Mario Diaz, the man responsible for my introduction to New York nightlife (you can all lob rotten tomatoes at him for this), to tell him that "the only thing missing is Jackie Beat, and the ceilings are too high!" Mario was sad he wasn't there to revel in a re-creation of his creation. I was sad, too, so I joined the others in a measly attempt to drown my sorrows at the afterparty, held at Little Italy's Goldbar, the luscious-looking space owned by the peeps behind Cain. Deitch owner Jeffrey Deitch, Alan Cumming, fashion designer Zaldy, Adam Dugas, Ladyfag (dressed in Kabuki glam), and Ladyfag's fiancé, Rainblo, filled the joint.
Around midnight, it suddenly turned into a nightlife episode of Lost. A dark cloud of repressive sameness hovered in the air as the Others started arriving: square dorks in buttoned-up shirts, and girls with shiny tops and $400 jeans. It was time to go before we all turned into pumpkins, or worse, boring bankers. So we headed to the new, current Cock. "This is the fifth Cock, or the fourth Cock, or something," Jake explained. We went over the history of all the different Cocksthe Fat Cock, the Hole, and the new Cock were all at the location we were dancing in now. We'd just been to a redone version of the old Cock. And of course, there was the original Cock itself. That's a lot of Cocks in one night enough to spur a new tradition. Night of a Thousand Cocks, anyone?
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