Bash Compactor: 23-Hour Party People

| 13 Aug 2014 | 06:20

    When your hair is fabulous, your night will be, too. It’s a known fact. Saturday night found strangers complimenting me on the street on my platinum ’do thanks to lots of teasing, gel and bleach. Nancy Spungen would’ve approved. That’s why I decided to go to a straight party for once—it’s refreshing to be hit on by the opposite sex.

    Standing in front of Panda NYC, a Chrystie Street bar and lounge that opened earlier this year, a burly thirtysomething guy with curly brown hair approached me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” What had I done now?

    Turns out he was a film director who wanted me to take some photos of him. Fine. Then he proceeded to pick me up and twirl me around. But why do strange men enjoy bringing me into the bathroom to snap pictures of them doing their business? “It’s your turn,” he leered. “No, that’s extra,” I replied. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

    It was the first Panda NYC party by DJ Zhill (Zilvinas Stumbras), a Lithuanian ex-pat and cofounder of Bagpak Music. My friend Cole had attended his loft parties in Union Square, and some wild rooftop bashes he threw in Soho. Now, he regularly hosts Bagpak Sessions with Yellowtail and Zero Chaser at Lolita Bar. The co-host of the night was Holmar Filipsson of Thugfucker Records, and originator of the first rave parties in Reykjavik back in the early ’90s. He later moved to New York for the ‘N’Ice’ parties at Baktun and Centrofly. With these pro partiers, music was the big deal—a mix of deep techno, broken beat, house and random bits of electronica. Other than Zhill and Filipsson, other DJs included James Boatman from Vancouver, Pete Sung, DJ Grey and Yellowtail.

    “Oooh! I love your hair, it’s as good as mine!” exclaimed a woman with a huge lion’s mane covering her face. Under the tresses was Goda Budvytyt, a Lithuanian artist and graphic designer from Amsterdam. She was the other life of the party, doing pushups and leaping on the windowsill and benches. The crowd was in its twenties and thirties, a funky mixture of Euros, Icelanders, Russkis and New Yorkers from all over. And yes, the boys seemed to like the girls. Maybe that’s why one of them got red lipstick marks all over my face.