By: Nightlife Journalist ((Photos by Hiroshi, PS/LR by Daiyu))
I went to Sinners masked, under strict internal instructions from Daiyu to behave like a proper Observer professional and not like a girl with some scratch paper and bad instincts and poor self-control around beautiful people in low lighting. I would love to report that I managed to follow her clear instructions. I did not… fully.
The room was gorgeous. Really gorgeous. Candlelight, red drapery, polished surfaces that were designed to reflect that casual glance, that lustful look or the flash of skin shown by many. There were dark corners and a bar that looked made for secrets to be shared with someone standing intimately at your side. With the lighting and masks everyone (except perhaps yours truly) looked either richer, more dangerous, or more kissable than they probably are in daylight. Daiyu has shown me pictures of someone called ‘Wilbur’ scoring someone he had no legitimate means of scoring; perhaps it came about as a result of this event (if he was there…) Anyway, the invitation had promised ‘Pretty Masks, Dirty Secrets,’ and I think there really were quite a lot of those on display. As well as other things. Sexy Things.
Isadora was the host and set the tone early, welcoming guests with drinks and inviting them to mingle before encouraging them to be daring and dance. Dancing in Hathian, as far as I can observe, is not that common. People sway, gyrate and there’s a lot of booty twerking, but at Sinners there was at least some attempt at the finer things. Still, it was only slightly spoiled when a man (who Daiyu identified as) Ash, apparently handling the safety briefing in the only way Hathian men know how, shouted to the room: “Get drunk and shit but not too drunk people! Be adults!” Whether this toned the classy tone down just a little, isn’t for me to say, but I’ve recommended this to Daiyu to take to Mayor Boxer as a suggestion for the new, (un)official city motto.
Deeper Into the Rabbit Hole
The masks did not so much conceal identity as turn recognition into some kind of Hathian art. Or if you remember as a kid, that ‘Guess Who’ game. Firstly, did I have an image of them that Daiyu had shared in my mind. If yes, then I could know that for example the old guy without the mask was Horny-Rog as my boss calls him. However many, I either didn’t remember the rushed briefing, or the masks were decent enough that being new(ish) I struggled. Oh well. A half mask here. Distinctive tattoos there. A cane. A train of red fabric. A certain kind of confidence that said ‘I’m high up in a gang or cult’.
People committed. Some came in full dark glamour, all lace, velvet, horned masks and dangerous tailoring. Some glowed. Some prowled. Some gave every indication of having spent an hour getting ready to look like they had simply drifted in from a better, wickedly lit life elsewhere. I clocked Alexandra among the arrivals, bright-eyed and half-masked, later taking to the floor with Hiroshi Shaw-Suzuki after he offered, with admirable formality, “May I have the honor of a dance with you Madam”. She accepted with an “I’ll even letcha lead,” which was either charming surrender or the start of a dare. Possibly both in Hathian right?
They were not the only ones making a good showing of things. At one point, a couple, or soon to be a couple came into my orbit. I heard the guy, perhaps Thomas or Thomm tell his striking companion, “If you want more specifics, you’ll just have to come home with me and find out more.” As Daiyu had briefed me, this kinda ‘take me home to ‘tease’ the secrets out of me’ line cropped up and she did not seem offended. Quite the reverse. The event was delivering as promised!
[Editorial note from Daiyu Tang: The Observer does not endorse going home with men who speak in challenge questions and sparkling-wine philosophy. We do, however, acknowledge the line was annoyingly effective.]
Goth Cop and Lucky Lines
Other pairings were less conversational and more kinetic. For example, one masked fox lured Vanora Blackheart (for it was she – Daiyu’s warnings about boob size meant there was no question) from the edge of the room and onto the dance floor with, “One should not be lonely. Especially someone as exquisite as you.” Vanora, proving herself apparently immune to mystery but not to amusement, answered with a retort about something to do with her mom. I didn’t hear the specifics, but surely her mom had clearly said that dancing with foxes was a sensible policy as she clearly followed it. They disappeared into that soft, swaying affection that some couples find almost immediately, which apparently doesn’t make my editor jealous, at all.
Across the room, two women danced and made for a memorable little study in proximity. I got closer, because they were a hot couple and my ‘gossip’ or ‘scandal’ radar was going. One asked the other to dance and the response was endearingly Olde English “I’d love to, my Lady,” and what followed was the sort of increasingly close exchange that made this reporter suddenly extremely interested in the structural integrity of her own mask sop as to not to reveal flushed cheeks. Once identities at least partly clicked into place for the couple I heard one woman give the other a “Lucky huh? Well, not as Lucky as me right now.” So that was Lucky, someone else Daiyu had vaguely mentioned although not described. Smooth line. Terrible line. Effective line.
A Month of Sundays
Not every memorable moment happened in the middle of the floor. Some of the best ones happened around the edges, where people thought they were being subtle. Sunday (from CU way) arrived leaning on his cane and surveyed the room arm in arm with someone before settling himself into a seat like a man prepared to let the party come to him. It did. The CU’s new sports clinic medic, possibly a Korean and in a black gown with the kind of line that should probably come with a disclaimer for wet panties or strained boxers, crossed the room and joined him with a low, “Evening, how’s that leg treating you?” You can put the sexy into an evening, but can’t take the medic out of it.
A Great Event
And that was the thing about the whole event. It never tipped fully into chaos. It flirted with it, certainly. It circled it, like I circled the room eating up outfits with my eyes and ideas with my notebook. Chaos gave the room a knowing look but it didn’t crash down, and at least as long as this reporter was there, there were no stabbings, gunshots of Hathian PD raids. Daiyu’s bingo card was NOT therefore hit!
But for all the heat, all the tension, all the careful little tests of nerve and closeness, the event was clear to me that it had been successful. Yes, as something stylish. Yes, sensual. Yes, silly in places and yes, a little dangerous in the way any successful Hathian gathering becomes. That is what Sinners got right, allowing concealment (just enough) to become bold. To say things like ‘Be daring’ and then give it a way to happen. To look at someone across a room through lacquer and lace and pretend, for at least half a song, (and no violence – a big plus!) that anonymity was real and consequences, Hathian’s favourite revenge track, were delayed until later.
[Editorial note from Daiyu Tang: Consequences are usually not delayed in Hathian. Occasionally they simply wait until after dessert and in Sinners? Well the eyes were feasting on it!]
