Many of those who attended Saturday evening's "70s" party at Gallagher's pub were too young to have memories of that glorious decade, when Steve McQueen drove cars in movies, a Republican president resigned and funk reached its apogee. It was also the decade in which, as my mother likes to remind me, I told my eighth-grade math teacher that "I just can't get into doing my homework." Rather a number of men inexplicably associated the 1970s with transvestitism and dressed in women's clothing, thereby helping improve the rather dire male-female gender ratio that is the cause of much McMurdo tension. I didn't have a costume, having left the gold-plated razor blade I usually wear around my neck back in Brooklyn, so I made do with pointing out to everyone that all my hair is real, and my own.
All Photographs courtesy of Sylvestre Guidi
Number One Soul Sister
Marsha gets Funky
Barry rocks the electric blue Rod Stewart mullet
Is that an armpit stain? That is soooo '70s
Stand back while I channel Elton John
Put your camera down and dance, cowboy
I'm pretty sure this is almost exactly what Deany looked like in 1979
Mardi Gras Escapee
Will gets wiggy
Laura's upset because she thought the dresscode read "1950s sorority girl" on the invitation
"Guys, where's my Harley? ...Guys. No, seriously. C'mon guys, it's not funny..."
Going home is just like 1988 when you walked out of "Save the Robots" on Avenue B and found to your horror that it was broad daylight outside