skip the light fantastic

Sometimes there's nothing better than stepping out in style, in that coolest of casual slap dashes that requires minimal effort; no more than a slick of face cake and a fantastic outfit that you literally threw together on some sartorial whim flex. All booked up and ready to go, a cab ride later under the light of the fattest, goldest moon I had ever witnessed we arrived outside Bistrotheque's uber understated entrance. An elegant vodka and coke in the bar spilled into the smoking area where we witnessed a couple of taxi's reversing and commencing and dithering, unsure of the nameless haunt as the ultimate destination. Dinner was served in a modest warehouse den bathed in the low-light of chandeliers. Adrift on a warm Merlot glow it was time for the showbusiness. The Frantastics offered up all the Presley, Cash and polka-dot prom dresses we could ever desire.
One last smoke and then we hit the road, leaving one of the city's best kept twilight secrets exactly as we had found it, nestled amongst trade warehouses and lock-ups.

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