"There's a lot of attractive people here," said Elliot, a boy wearing a green scarf and a smear of green and silver paint down his cheek. "I feel underdressed." This is Bowiemas 2010—an annual celebration of the birth of "our lord and savior" David Bowie—and if Elliot was underdressed, then I was faux pas incarnate. I figured I'd be okay stepping up my eye shadow and wearing something shiny and interplanetary. But on seeing the developing mess o' glam on the all-Bowie-all-the-time dance floor downstairs, I realized I paled in comparison to all the glitter, big hair, Aladdin Sane lightning bolts, and smudges of Ziggy Stardust.
Upstairs, you could get your picture taken with Bowie, but I couldn't tell if this was actually happening since everybody was dressed like Bowie. Bowie dancing with Bowie magic-dancing with Bowie. In a second, the party swelled from 40 or 50 people to hundreds, despite the doormen constantly turning people away. One by one, Bowie hopefuls would shuffle off. You wouldn't think it was possible for grown people wearing glitter to look that sad.
The bar, tended by a girl who I am pretty sure was dressed as Sarah from Labyrinth, was serving whole bottles of Cook's, which added beautifully to the air of plastic glamour. "Bowiemas is the perfect mix between glam and gutterpunk—a way for everyone to get drunk and still have a good time," said partyer Addison, after he stopped yelling "SAMURAI!" He was rocking both the Stardust and the Labyrinth eye patch. "On that note," he added, "I have to pee."
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