I hated Night Clubs. Night Clubs started out as places to go where the posh elements of society could have a meal, a cabaret and a dance to live music. When they mutated into large pubs with DJs and the ability to stay open and serve alcohol after 11pm they somehow kept hold of some of those pretensions of grandeur.
No jeans, no trainers, shirts, ties, some even demanded suits. Much like other dress related requirements the code for women was less strict (and I am well aware, like in working environments, this can be as much of a problem as a benefit – men may have to dress in a suit, but it is easy to choose, whereas women have a far wider choice, but that in itself brings questions about what works and is suitable for the environment). These rules could be imposed because the clubs knew men wanted to go there to meet women – this could also mean that men paid for entry, but women were let in free or allowed to jump the queues (of course the bouncers were all men in the 80s too). I hated dressing like that – I did not realise at the time that I had hypersensitive skin that reacted to certain materials and styles. I also did not want to dress for going out the way that I dressed for work. (This did not just apply to clubs, some restaurants had rules too and it was only in the late 90s that I stopped asking if there was a dress code when eating out – if there were it was usually no soiled workmen’s clothes, no vests or the like).
Another thing that I hate about clubs is the line outside to get in. In most cases this is not for any other reason than the owners want it to look popular and attract attention. Shivering at 11pm on a cold night for 45 minutes only to enter an almost empty club is not my idea of fun. To get round this you could get in early, usually paying a lower entry fee, but have to pay higher rates for alcohol and hang around in a cavernous empty space for ages.
The nearest club to us was The Tartan House in Frating – so middle of nowhere that they laid on transport. Now it is a housing development. In Colchester there were several, but the problem was that buses stopped running at 10pm, minicabs would often take 2 to 3 hours to pick you up and taxis were prohibitively expensive. I know people who have walked the ten miles from Colchester to Brightlingsea in the wee small hours. The most infamous club in Colchester at the time had a mirrored floor – whether or not apocryphal everyone had heard of the poor woman who had not thought about this when going commando.
The main club on Colchester High Street has gone by many names and is at least a reasonable size – unlike L’Aristos or the Andromeda were. It was so loud though and if you did not like dancing there was nothing to do. Chicago’s were a type of hybrid pub/ club chain that was successful for a while in the nineties and noughties – aiming at a slightly older crowd and at least included an outside area in Colchester – for quiet and air.
(Chicagos now)
It was not just Colchester -Sheila’s in London was an expensive underground club that, on my one visit, was packed to the rafters and had sweat dripping down the walls yet seemed to think that it was an exclusive venue.
The only club that I actually liked was Kudos in Watford. It was a massive club. There were two separate dance areas playing different music. There were quiet spaces and there were even indoor food outlets to keep you going. They had proper DJs too – not just Carl from shipping doing a weekend gig in the hope of fame.
(Inside Kudos)
Clubbing became huge because of the rise of dance culture and every town had at least one. Then 2008 hit and money was tighter. Young people realised it costed a fraction of the cost to get drunk at home. Then the rise of dating apps meant that you could meet people without having to spend hours being deafened and buying bad lager for £10 a pint. Clubs were already declining when the pandemic hit.
I am not sure they will be back.
This is the most clubby, dancey song ever.
Born Slippy
Five Miles Out 