Monday, November 22, 2010
Long Time Passing
I feel like I left my Goth Post unfinished, so here is part 2 of Where Have All the Good Goths Gone. Please understand that I am not trying to offend anyone, only trace a path of the Goth progression, so forgive me the tread marks I make on the current Goth society…
I remember on one of my very first trips to Seattle, my good friend Cat telling me that the goth culture was alive and well in Seattle. It was all but dead in LA in the 90s, replaced by the sad "new punk " movement (read: not punk at all). Anyway, we were driving through the Fremont suburb when I saw a tall guy wearing all black including a long velvet mourning coat! I almost crashed my poor car in shock.
"Told ya," Cat smiled.
Within two years I had moved to Seattle permanently. At that time
there was a street in the neighborhood of Capitol Hill we called
"Black Alley." On this street were two Goth bars and a private Goth
dance club called the Mercury. The Merc (as we called it) did not at
that time have it's liquor license. So we would have to run 4 doors
down to JUJU (past Richard, JUJU's hunky viking bouncer) and down a
couple drinks, then run back to the Merc to dance. At that time, the
music and DJ's at the Mercury were stellar…reminiscent of my favorite
club in LA, Booth.
JUJU closed 4 years ago and became a series of yuppie/hipster art
galleries. The Mercury is still there, but it is no longer private; it
serves alcohol and also caters to what I call the velvet vamp or neo
goth. You know what I am talking about… The music sucks too. So I
rarely go there, and never on a Saturday night.
There is however one place I love, it's called Chapel. It's a
converted funeral home, and the music is great/loud/fast and moody.
(It's not a dance club, but rather a bar/meeting place.) Not to
mention the TO DIE FOR drinks. They make a black martini that is the
same color as my soul—love it.
Recently I took a "quiz" on facebook called "how Goth are you?." I came
out Goth Royalty!! Part of me was like, well duh, yet I was shocked. I
am who I am, I don't try to fit in. I actually try not to stand out.
One of my favorite writer friends Heather Brewer calls me the Supreme
Elder Goth, to which I am both pleased and embarrassed . ( I
know, I'm complex. What can I say?) Here's the secret…or at least
mine…a real goth doesn't think about it; they just are themselves. I
do own other colors besides black. Truthfully, I get dreamy eyed over
turquoise blue and true purple. So maybe I really do fail.
Honestly, I believe the way of the Goth has faded here in Seattle.
Gone are all the brooding black wearing folks. They have been replaced
with a sea of brown, top hats and goggles. Truly, Steampunk happens
when Goths decide to wear brown. It's okay, though… More black for me…
Desire lurks beyond good and evil
So dance on the graves where the hammer falls
***** special thanks to Dusty Grave for the photo*************