Thursday night was ladies’ night at the Commissary.
Men had to dress like women to get into the party. There was an inspection at the door. If you didn’t look feminine enough, you didn’t get in, simple as that. Your correspondent barely passed the test; he had borrowed a skirt that was semi-flattering because it covered up a lot, but he only had a man’s white formal shirt for a top. Once Lexy tied it up around his sternum, thus exposing plenty of midsection flesh, he could take his place inside.
I’m told that the Ladies night used to be just that — just for ladies. But some years ago, Coyote and some co-conspirators crashed the bash by dressing up as women. So that started the practice of requiring the DPW crew and others out here early to get their fem on to party.
Here’s a sampling of some snappies from the party last night. More to come.
John Curley (that's me) has been Burning since the relatively late date of 2004, and in 2008 I spent the better part of a month on the playa, documenting the building and burning of Black Rock City in words and pictures. I loved it, and I've been doing it ever since.
I was a newspaper person in a previous life, and I spent many years at the San Francisco Chronicle. At the time I left, in 2007, I was the deputy managing editor in charge of Page One and the news sections of the paper. Since then, I've turned a passion for photography into a second career. I shoot for editorial, commercial and private clients. I've also taught a little bit, including two years at UC Berkeley's Graduate School of Journalism and a year at San Francisco State University.
I live on the San Mateo coast, just south of San Francisco in California.