who the hell is manolo?

MANOLO DIDN’T JUST OWN THE HOTTEST NIGHTCLUBS IN 1970S NEW YORK AND PALM SPRINGS — NO, THAT WOULD BE FAR TOO MODEST. MANOLO WAS THE NIGHTLIFE. THE CITY MERELY ORBITED HIM OUT OF COURTESY.

HIS CLUBS, NATURALLY, WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO GET INTO UNLESS YOU WERE FAMOUS, BEAUTIFUL, OR AT LEAST WILLING TO PRETEND YOU WERE ONE OF THE TWO. THE LINE OUTSIDE STRETCHED FOR BLOCKS, FILLED WITH PEOPLE PRACTICING THEIR “CASUAL INDIFFERENCE” FACES WHILE SECRETLY HOPING MANOLO’S ALL-SEEING GAZE WOULD FALL UPON THEM LIKE DISCO DIVINE INTERVENTION. 

 MANOLO HIMSELF WOULD STAND AT THE ENTRANCE LIKE A VELVET-ROPE PHILOSOPHER-KING, OFTEN DRESSED IN A WHITE FUR WITH AN UNCANNY ABILITY TO LOOK DIRECTLY AT YOU AND THROUGH YOU AT THE SAME TIME, AS IF ASSESSING NOT JUST YOUR OUTFIT, BUT YOUR ENTIRE LIFE’S WORTH OF QUESTIONABLE DECISIONS.

 “NOT TONIGHT,” HE’D SAY, WITH THE KIND OF GENTLE FINALITY USUALLY RESERVED FOR FATE, FAKES OR FRAUDS

 AND OH, THE LEGENDS. PEOPLE CLAIMED MANOLO PERSONALLY INVENTED DISCO, CHARISMA, AND POSSIBLY EVEN EYE CONTACT. SOME SWORE HE ONCE MADE A CELEBRITY CRY JUST BY RAISING AN EYEBROW. OTHERS INSISTED HE COULD TELL IF YOUR SHOES WERE UNFASHIONABLE FROM ACROSS THE STREET.

 INSIDE THE CLUB, EVERYTHING SPARKLED: THE DANCE FLOOR, THE DRINKS, THE EGOS. THE MUSIC WAS LOUD ENOUGH TO REARRANGE YOUR PERSONALITY, AND THE LIGHTING WAS DIM ENOUGH TO FORGIVE IT.  THE DJ PLAYED RECORDS THAT MANOLO HAD ALREADY DECIDED WERE HITS, BECAUSE OF COURSE THEY WERE. IF MANOLO NODDED TO A SONG, IT CLIMBED THE CHARTS. IF HE DIDN’T, IT MIGHT AS WELL HAVE NEVER EXISTED.

 HE DIDN’T JUST CURATE A CROWD—HE CURATED REALITY. TRENDS DIDN’T START IN THE CLUB; THEY WERE ALLOWED TO EXIST BY MANOLO, BRIEFLY, UNTIL SOMETHING BETTER CAME ALONG. AND SOMEHOW, SOMETHING ALWAYS DID.

OF COURSE, BY 3 OR 4 A.M., WHEN THE LIGHTS CAME ON AND THE ILLUSION DISSOLVED INTO SMEARED EYELINER AND EXISTENTIAL DREAD, MANOLO WAS ALREADY GONE. KINGS OF THE NIGHT DON’T STICK AROUND FOR DAYLIGHT. THAT’S FOR THE COMMONERS WHO DIDN’T GET PAST THE DOOR.

BUT DON’T WORRY—IF YOU WERE LUCKY, IF YOU WERE CHOSEN, IF YOU WERE DEEMED WORTHY BY THE HIGH PRIEST OF FUR, GLAMOUR AND ATTITUDE, YOU GOT TO SAY YOU WERE THERE.

AND REALLY, WASN’T THAT THE WHOLE POINT?