In the continued quest to discover the hidden (from me) lesbian world of London, A4 and I decide to pay a visit to Trash Palace.
This wasnt the Trash Palace of yore – a cosy little nook, hidden in a lane near Leicester square (where Waxy’s Little Sister is), but it’s reincarnation on Old street.
I don’t know why they would move to Old Street. On the map it wasn’t really that close to Shoreditch and Hoxton. It was on Old Street road, near many print shops offering large-scale scanning. (Must remember to call and see if they scan A1 and get costing.)
I have vaguely fond memories of Trash Palace. I went there on a date once with a semi-androgynous blonde. I wasn’t particularly keen and they played music so loud it was impossible to have a conversation.
So we made out for about two hours. (In front of everyone, so shameless – We weren’t even secreted in some corner. I’m mildly embarrassed thinking about it now.)
Then we both got on the tube. I lost all interest immediately and went home.
Never saw that person again.
Ah, good times.
The tube has always been a mojo killer for me. Those fluorescent lights (never flattering), forced to make awkward conversation (because even I am not so shameless to make out on the tube in front of random drunken louts) while travelling to some hole of a stop in zone 2/3/4 for 20 mins. There is no way sex can happen after that.
There far too much time to reflect and reconsider.
I usually reconsider.
The only way sex can happen is if you take a cab and it takes less than 10 mins to get there. If possible, make out in the cab.
So A4 and I are walking up and down Old Street, in a biting wind, looking for this place. My jacket has a high collar, so I squash my furry purple hat down on my head and yank up collar up above my nose. I manage to hold it there by keeping my shoulders shrugged in a very uncomfortable way. All you can see are my eyes. I think this is a look I want to cultivate. I wish they’d make a jacket that had a collar that went over your head but had peep holes for your eyes.
Anyway, so we are walking, we are walking. There seems to be no sign of this place.
A4 fortunately has gmaps on a second-hand iPhone. All I have is my keen sense of direction.
We get to the end of the street, google map is clearly pointing to a bar that is:
1. Called something like ‘Noma’ except I can’t be sure because the font they used is one of those curly ones. Entirely illegible.
2. Not remotely ‘gay’ looking
2. Seems closed.
Perhaps google maps is wrong. Lets look on their website.
Website (an annoying Flash nonsense of a site) showed exactly the same thing.
So I asked 2 boys in a car if they knew where it was
“Yea. We do. Want to get in?”
“Uhm… no thanks.”
So we wandered up and down for ages before we headed back to Angel. A4 wanted to go to Shoreditch but the ex called me mildly irritated that we were lost and A4 was sympathetic enough to know that partners ought to be placated.
So I think we went to the Green again. In a way, I rather enjoy these gay quest failures.
They add a certain sense of adventure to drinking.
I’m not sure where Trash Palace is now. I don’t dare look for it again.
I only just found this site lesbianswholooklikejustinbieber and I realised I way behind the lesbian times.
I really need to get my posse together quickly.