Babes On Babes Vancouver // FORTUNE SOUND CLUB

The facebook event banner.

Let me review the venue first.  If you’ve ever heard of downtown Vancouver I supposed you’ve heard it’s dangerous; “a warzone” full of “the walking dead” and other such fashy, dehumanizing drivel. The people saying it’s dangerous are for-the-most-part totally ridiculous, when they’re middleclass tourists with cameras running through the clearly demarcated shooting galleries and sidewalk markets and tent citiesif you’re someone theyre filming, the danger is real, the cops are always doing sweeps and killing peopleThis and this are related to this.

You can really see the effect of that totalitarian hatred of nomads/untaxed on a deserted side-street like this part of Pender:

Narry a human in sight. Very beautiful though; twinkly.  (Tbf there was one person sitting on the same side of the street we were on and I accidentally caught them in the background of a couple-selfie which certainly didn’t ruin my night although I was slightly ashamed to be so gauche ? it’s hard to be happy while other people are not but you can’t mandate happiness–let’s abolish capitalist make-work bullshit though, housing is a right and so is existing in public, if I don’t want to go home but instead sleep on the sidewalk that should be my right as a citizen.  Some people will always be too traumatized to work enough to “earn” their keep/stay according to capitalist metrics of labor value etc, and newsflash but, these people still deserve to live. That may mean free, adequately liveable no-strings shelter. Shake the nazi out of your systems, everyone else, damn.  Y’all can still pay your way into staying at the Ritz with your lawfirm salaries, and the rest of us can’t. Stop worrying about incentivizing work and start worrying about the blood on your hands for legislating the exposure deaths, or tax-funding the extrajudicial murders for being unhoused and vulnerable to predation/abuse.)

Sorry, it’s impossible to be downtown and not think of the politics of the commons.  I was homeless one summer out east.  It’s an extremely demanding fulltime job with horrible prospects for advancement and a high mortality rate.  Some (too many) people are just utterly monsterous about Those They See “Idle.”  Let’s change the times, that nazi shit feels very last century to me.

The pretty photo I took of the upcoming events.  Dig the rabbits ?

Midparty air-catchers under the neon light.

So, you go up that lit staircase there (accessibility info; not wheelchair accessible, not even a lift issue like the Vic Event Centre was having but now isn’t), and midway up there’s a small living-space style room that has major basement apartment vibes, like specifically the place I lived at 210 Shaw in Toronto, a spot known primarily as Harsh Noise Cave although that was after my time there):

I’d be FAR more nostalgic for that time if it hadn’t been a shitshow living there actually–in fact that was how I ended up homeless, like through a bunch of it I was actually on a lease downtown and paying rent so they wouldn’t toss my shit, I just felt totally unable to be there for social reasons, so I lived in a tent hidden at the spit for weeks at a time and couch surfed as much as possible.  (The den of coyotes I pitched on top of never ate me, they liked me leaving them bread too much.  I hope they forgot about me.)

This floor also has a funny side-room area that is probably for hankypanky etc privacy:

My lovely lady had anxiety about exploring it because it seemed slightly out-of-bounds, but I think it’d be locked if we weren’t tacitly permitted to poke around.

I would have stayed down here really, because it felt like a danker party would naturally materialize in such a dank space.

But, let’s go upstairs to where I actually spent 98% of the night because it made the above-mentioned lady of mine less anxious.  It’s a much less claustrophobic space upstairs in the venue proper, for sure.

Anyway the drinks are far too expensive and the bathrooms are very decent, but super small.  There’s ample private-ish seating, that’s cool. Like, it’s important that people be able to cool down and that there be space to accommodate many people taking a seat at once.  So, great.  Venue review over.  Super fucked that there’s no way in for people who can’t climb stairs; I’m unlikely to regularly financially contribute to a place that inherently disregards any potential customers out of hand like that, I’m very discriminating that way.


Let’s talk about how the people hosting Babes On Babes like don’t care that the place doesn’t have an elevantor, because it goes to ALL my critiques of the event itself.  (My gf and I ain’t hitting another of these parties so, gloves off, no holds barred. )

So like, I invited a DJ friend of mine who lives in Van to come with us to this party.  She reads the flyer and says actually, she’s worked with one of the event planners before, and the vibe is “off.”

Having been to the party, I would characterize the vibe as “stale.”  And I think that’s what my friend meant–she did use the phrase “old guard” to describe the offness.  My gf called it “a gay party, not a queer party” and that about sums it up.  Everything just felt strangely neoliberal?

There were supposed to be alllllll these DJs but upstairs, really one DJ covered 80% of the night, and…with top 40 the whole time. Largely unremixed top 40 with NO TRACK TRANSITIONS. Very “shuffle/skip.”  It honestly reminded me of the (authentically-late-90s) rave style dances at the middleschool I went to for a year and a half. Moreso than any club night I’ve been to since then.  It was actually a little fun, I wont lie.  But it was also lazy and weird, like a put-on, a bit.  The host I had been told about appeared at doortime and personally greeted everyone waiting, and was never seen again.  Green room?  I had expected to judge their mainfloor DJing ?

A majority of the attendees were in pants, with a seeming preponderance of girls dressed like this, dancing with eachother.  There was entirely too much white-girls-laughing-at-themselves-for-trying-hiphop-moves.  (The space was ridiculously well-lit.)

Let me illustrate some of this DJing I’m slagging off:

This kept happening.  I mean, I love that we weren’t ableist when it came to the DJs, like I WILL dance to top 40* spun ineptly by fellow gays, it’s just messed up that I couldn’t have if I needed a chair.  Dear everyone: let’s gripe long and hard at The Man until drone-assisted hoverchairs are massmarket.  Then people can just take the stairs in their chair.

*my gf called it “tiktok’s greatest hits.”  Too true.

Here’s some more footy:

I liked the hype dancers; they’re there to make this look like an actual party.  Super funny job.

I feel like strippers are never out of place, but it also feels like, this whole event series rests on the back of traditional strip clubs sucking.  We need more gay stripclubs.

Proof that the DJ actually had mixing equipment:

Terrible!  Like really bad! Baby’s-first-ever-turn-at-deck bad.  Am I nuts?  This event cost $35 a ticket?  You’re joking me. 



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