The Hong Kong chapter of my friend Rachel Barr has sadly come to an end. But I’m positive that my friend Rachel a.k.a. Miss Sassy Fierce will move on to better things down under. For her farewell, she posted a bar-hopping itinerary on Facebook for some serious organized mayhem. “A comprehensive list of bars and timings will be sent, so feel free to join me for a bit, or all of it.”
So I joined a bit of it as I had been invited by All About Me! Entertainment to go see their cabaret burlesque show at Drop on Friday. I took my friend Maggie Blue, who’s also a performing artist, because she wanted to check out the competition. “Entertaining The Troups” starred the Candygirls, with guest appearance by sultry jazz nightingale Brigitte Mitchell. Now if you’ve been to that dark little absinthe bar Gecko on a Tuesday or Wednesday night for the best live jazz in town, you will have seen—and heard—Brigitte before. And at Drop, under the spotlight and with all that space to sashay, Brigitte was phenom. She let loose one of the most captivating renditions of “Fever” I’ve ever experienced. I mean, sometimes that song can get a tad bit boring. The hot mama was totally in her element of singing, completely out of control while absolutely in control. Yes, jazz. That beautiful beast, is chaos in discipline, while Zen is discipline in chaos. The other girls had nice T n’ A. I mean, they were entertaining, but they didn’t OWN it like Brigitte did. Girls, you are beautiful, your vocal chords aren’t whack and you’re not off key. Just let it rip. Own that voice!
We left Staunton’s for Baby Buddha. Some got sucked into the depths of Yumla whilst walking over. And I led a group to Cul-de-Sac, lured by the desire for poutine, an exquisite French delicacy. Alright FINE, French-Canadian. We didn’t want to sup by the road and sweat furiously and offensively, so we took three trays of greasy fries, fatty curds and gooey gravy back to Josh and Tina’s place, otherwise known as private club Fuk Moon Tong on D’Aguilar.
I had planned to go check out the Bloody Beetroots at Volar. Davena and iNTi of A-Vibe also had planned for me to go check out the Bloody Beetroots at Volar. ;-) However, there really was no going back out again after I stuffed my face with the last French fry on the tray. Sorry, Dav and iNTi, I was in a poutine coma but I did my journalistic best—I texted my little friend Jeff Hahn who was in the club. “Oh I might come, is Volar hot?” I flake-texted. “So hot I’m like so not,” he replied.
Which reminds me, I’ve also successfully introduced poutine to my Maori-ish friend Wharakura, who’s a gym instructor but is now a fat sea cow.