Best!
Party!
Ever!

We've missed them, we've fantasized about them, we’ve mapped out the perfect looks for when we can make our grand return to them: PARTIES. A spontaneous chain of events—meeting a crush, dancing for hours, indulging with some greasy late-night grub—in which we can, at least for a moment, escape from the mundane realities of the everyday. Maybe it's the music, or the mood, or some combination of old haunts and new friends, but as with any amazing party, it’s always defined by the details.

While the idea of planning to party again remains on a spectrum, we asked three friends and dream guests to share stories—and all the details—from the greatest they’ve ever been to. Here, DJ Honey Dijon, writer Devan Diaz, and director Leilah Weinraub dig into their personal archives of going out, go-go boys, good gossip, and more—get your party pants on!

HONEY DIJON
The greatest party that I ever went to wasn't just one party, but a series of weekly parties at one of the most legendary clubs in New York called Twilo. Twilo was located on the West Side of Chelsea that was mostly warehouses before gentrification turned many amazing club spaces into luxury apartments.

Entering into the club was like walking into another universe of sight, sound, and emotion. There was a long hallway and as you entered you could hear the muffled bass from the dancefloor that created intense anticipation. As soon as you reached the end of the hallway, two doors flung open to wild abandon. It was a carnivorous space filled with the essence of New York nightlife at the time; drug dealers, sex workers, businessmen, models, voguers, go-go boys on podiums, drag queens, and some of the best dancers and DJs in the world. Unlike today where the DJ is a rockstar, the DJ was high above the dancefloor, hidden, where the music was the star. Danny Tenaglia was the resident and he transformed the sound of New York with his mix of tribal, techno, minimal, electro, gospel and disco. It was life changing. Friday nights were for international guests, and Saturdays were for the real New Yorkers.

I never went before 4am because 6am was when the magic happened. I would dance until noon to my favorite DJ. It was transcendental. I have met some of my best friends on Twilo's dance floor and through the music of Mr. Tenaglia I knew that I wanted to become a DJ and continue to spread the energy and sounds of 530 W. 27th Street.

DEVAN DIAZ
36 hours in Los Angeles, and I’m waiting for the party to begin. JFK to LAX overnight. I’m trying to nap in Hari’s apartment, while a glam team awaits her arrival. She’s landing from London any minute, and stepping right into her 27th birthday. Tommy, her then-roommate, orchestrated the reunion. I wear black to let everyone know where I’m from. It’s 2018, so Hari is blonde, wearing diamond drop-earrings and a vintage Depeche Mode t-shirt. I have work on Monday, so I can’t stay long. We begin with burgers and fries at an arcade, where we play pin-ball against Disney Channel stars. Afterward we pile into Jacob’s Tesla, riding to the top of Sunset Boulevard. Hari turns around from the front seat, grinning: “It’s Devan’s first time at the Chateau Marmont!”

Marilyn Monroe stayed there while filming Bus Stop (1956), the movie that marked her independence from the studio system. I fell victim to it’s shadowy charm, and the finely milled powders of the West Coast made me chatty. I caught a glimpse of a famous actress from behind in the bathroom, her blonde hair a personal spotlight. The jazz music is unnerving, like an Angelo Badalamenti score. Breast augmentations are common and I met a girl who’s had two. I had one scheduled for the following year; her advice was really useful. The party moves again, this time to the house of a famous actor.

I begin to yawn as we wind up Mulholland Drive, a sign that the psilocybin mushrooms are hitting. I brought them from New York; a chocolate heart wrapped in gold foil. Jacob vapes as the car drives itself. Was this the future? The actor doesn’t greet us when we arrive because he’s getting his palm read. I’m not starstruck, but I am thinking about the photo of him I had in my high school locker. Sean Penn’s daughter is there and she can’t believe the sound coming out of my mouth. “I knew Fidel Castro,” she says, “He would’ve loved your laugh.”

Over-stimulated and anxious I hid in the bathroom. When I re-enter Hari sniffs out my spiral, and asks me to sit on the grass with her. Tommy tells me to look at the stars to calm down. It works. I’d only slept for three hours, and I needed a glass of water. Without thinking, I approach the actor while he appears to be in a serious conversation with a group of dark suits. I tapped him on the shoulder to ask for what I needed. Shocked, and definitely amused, he walks me to the kitchen and pours me a glass.

Back home, Hari asks me what we talked about. “You’re cute,” was all he said, but the tone was ambiguous. Did he mean me? Or my boldness? Doesn’t matter, I have a boyfriend ;)

Hari goes to the bathroom to remove her makeup, and leaves “Venice Bitch” by Lana Del Rey playing on loop. A lullaby. When she comes back she asks if there was anything I said. Absolutely not, I wanted to watch every second of him serving me. There was one thing I did want to ask, though. “What the hell do I look like?” We howl with laughter, repeating the hypothetical question back and forth. We got in bed and watched Wendy Williams videos til dawn.

LEILAH WEINRAUB
The best party I’ve ever been to was at Sun City in Paris. LE PLUS GRAND SAUNA GAY DE PARIS: PISCINE, SAUNA, DOUCHES, HAMMAM, CABINES!! It was the before work/after work/during work spot for most of the HOOD BY AIR team and so it was decided to have our show and after party there. The owner of the club was this skinny trade named Rene. He was married with children and sex clubs are the business he inherited from his parents; they own two clubs in Pigalle and also Sun City. I’m sure everyone has their own special story about that night, but for me it was about two things.

ONE: Seeing the inside of a men's only space. And it was very chill, meant for relaxing. You could just watch Jurassic Park and have a sandwich and chill on a sofa or roam the pools. That night in the spa rooms and in the weight rooms, there was an impossible mix of people in the building—most noticeably, women.

TWO: We rented the whole building, right. So, sometime in the swirl of the night, myself and someone I met went to the top floor, which is where the maze of stalls are, and we were checking out the inside of one of the booths, and there was a loud banging on the door. I was saying to the guy, “It's fine, I rented the space. I’m supposed to be here!” He insisted and persisted: “No girls!”

We meet up with Rene the next week to thank him and plan our next moment there and he said that we were never allowed to enter the space or have a party there ever again, and that, if his gay-guy clientele found out there were women in the pool or in the saunas, they would freak out and he would lose his business forever.

How sad ;(