Gone are the days when a large dance club like the Roxy could teem with scads of shirtless gays on drugs, dancing to dental-drill-like music before going home to have unsafe sex. (Ah, those were the days.)
But there’s a glimmer of perverse hope. As I mention in the column, a new Saturday night bash called Club 57 at Providence (at 311 W. 57 St.) has been reeling in the gays like fish to a salted hook. In fact, the opening night last week was even more crowded than my computer is with Spam emails urging me to go to Nigeria to complete a lucrative transaction that will save the life of a religious leader with esophogal problems.
Clearly, there’s an aching need for gay fun, and this place can provide it. It has three levels, the main floor being a chandelier-accessorized,
medium-sized space for dancing and gawking at gogo boys. The crowd that promoters Tony Fornabaio and Brandon Voss brought in was large and good looking if a tiny bit self conscious, no one quite sure yet how to behave in a potentially fun environment. But it’s a start, people. Let’s meet there and show them how to carry on.