Did you ever see an object, and realize it’s been waiting to be found? For me, that’s the disco ball at the Hotel Jane.
The ballroom at the Jane is Studio 54 meets Miss Havisham… in Buenos Aires. And the centerpiece is my beloved — a ponderous disco ball doing its best Death Star imitation. Age spots, rows of missing tiles, you could practically hear it creaking as it swayed from the rafters.
I could feel decades of reflected confetti, and spilled drinks, dashed hopes, and and hundreds of tiny dancers shimmering on its surface. Here was my entire aesthetic in a single object — Celebratory Decay.
I’d like to go in and reclaim it, as we were obviously lovers in a former life, but jail time would impede my ability to enjoy the new bedroom. So for now I’m going to try to recreate it. The precious.
Admittedly, I have no idea how to start. Is a giant disco ball too heavy for San Francisco ceilings the inevitable earthquake waiting? How do you antique a disco ball? Ideas? Just soak it in gin and the tears of NYC debutantes for a few weeks?
I’m all ears if you happen to be a disco ball expert (and if there’s a certification for that, I’ve been living my life wrong).
In the meantime I’ll keep you posted on our follies as they unfold. You send the NY debs my way. Cigarillos on me, girls.
Photo by Brandon Blattner