Life on Mars

Spit five blocks from King to Queen and see the dichotomy of gender. Clubland lipstick lovers are from Mars; hip young things hiding in Ray-Bans are from Venus. And so the parade of Queen St. cool kids felt out of place today as it made its way towards the other planet.

Free booze and BBQ brought them south to King St., lured in by Fred Perry, Vice, and Red Bull. On top the Cheval roof top patio the barbeque smoked, sent out the signal. On the decks was Tim Harrington from Les Savy Fav, gearing up for his gig at Wrongbar.

NXNE passes dangled from necks but didn’t bypass the growing line. The crowd packed in tight together, sweat stains sinking in as the sun beat its rays down. Amongst the madness we hid up top the tables, leaning into the fake grass covering the walls. Sipped on beers towards daytime dizziness, waited for the phone call.

When it came the gig was up, time for the Raveonettes, Iggy, and the Stooges. Floated through the empty indoor air conditioning, down to the street. Followed a couple out the door, listened to their convo.

She looked around, leaned in to him, and said: “I forgot we were on King St.”