Starring Lady Miss Kier
Sunday, January 9
Better Than: A dance floor without a mannequin
A few weeks ago, a mannequin dressed as NYC party boy Richie Rich disappeared from its home in the DJ booth at Don Hill’s. He’s been found, though, and the shirtless doll returned to watch over a dance floor of oddities late last night. The club’s most loyal patron didn’t seem to mind the gorgeous pair of ladies grinding at his feet or the ninja-style high-kicks of another that nearly knocked the bright red wig off his head. Richie’s gaze was instead focused intently on the turntables, where a glittery-eyed boy (shrouded by a cape, mind you) whispered into Lady Miss Kier’s free ear just as a muffled clatter of beats brought a verse of “There’s Some Hoes In This House” over the speakers. You know, just another Dropout Sunday at Don Hill’s.
Kier is something of a marvel herself. Not a whole lot has changed from the Deee-Lite singer’s “Groove Is in the Heart” days: The big red hair and heavy eyeliner remains, though tonight a golden dress with a tutu replaces her signature bodysuits of yesteryear. Despite her nearly 50 years of age, she still makes a great playful club queen, dishing out smiles to a very persistent camerawoman, dancing with a drunk fan, humoring the audience with vocal overlays of dance hits, and so on. (We nearly died as she belted out the opening lines to Inner City’s “Big Fun.”)
As a DJ, she’s a little less impressive. Unfortunately, her crowd-friendly song selection noticeably trumped her ability to use the crossfader. “We’re going to take it way back and then into the future,” she informed the dance floor before launching into a selection of ’90s club anthems and hip-hop (she played “Da’ Dip” and “Paid In Full”), somewhat haphazardly mashed together. The crashing segues didn’t matter to Kier’s loyal fans, though, and a new flock of revelers invaded the dance floor right as we were sure the night was over. The new group included a suited white guy that exclusively emulated Michael Jackson, a man in a sequined devil mask, and the new cast of The Real L Word (film crew included). Amazing.
By 3 a.m., the foggy fun house had exhausted even the casual spectator in us. (Honestly, the new waves of fashion-forward revelers seemed never-ending.) As we left, we noticed that the promoter had retreated to the couches for a breather himself. “My boyfriend and I started Dropout Sundays about five weeks ago,” he explained with pride. “Peaches played it when she was in town, and we’ve got Debbie Harry playing in a few weeks. You should come!” See you then.
Critical Bias: I’m basically diva obsessed.
Overheard: “Is that a time machine?!” — Man with sunglasses on, referring to my Blackberry.
Random Notebook Dump: Gay hipsters are more fun to dance with than straight ones.