Scene & Herd - Hot sex and lots of single women

Last Thursday’s publicity shindig for HBO’s “Sex and the City” at eleven50 billed itself as the summer’s hottest party. That may have been a reference to the temperature inside the club, which was so hot by the time I left that I was putting the B.O. in HBO. Despite the heat, the invitation-only affair was packed with enthusiastic fans who enjoyed the advance screening of a new episode and free Cosmopolitans (drinks, not magazines).

The event’s highlight was the character look-alike contest emceed by Q100’s Lindsay Brien. Brien’s dress was so short that I could see straight up it from my seat in front of the stage. Normally I’d be too bashful to look, but since it was the “Sex and the City” party, I figured it was OK. Oh, and the contest. The Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte winners were actual, honest-to-goodness look-alikes. However not a single one of the Carrie contestants, that’s Sarah Jessica Parker’s character, looked a thing like her. That’s probably not a bad thing though when you consider that Parker looks like she spends way too much time with her personal trainer and not nearly enough time with her personal chef.

Wednesday Night Drinking Club is a wildly-popular monthly networking/social gathering for young professionals. July’s meeting was last Wednesday at the High Note Jazz Club in Buckhead and was attended by more than 500 people. Other than its size, what distinguishes WNDC from a typical Buckhead happy hour is that the women seemingly outnumber the men 3-to-1. The three words that best sum up the event for me are girls, girls and girls. Within minutes of walking in, I was introduced to an Angela, an Erica, and a Jessica. My life was just a Rita away from becoming a Lou Bega song.

When I asked the event’s chief organizer, a charming young man named Nathan Abbott, about the female-to-male ratio, he insisted that he’s trying to lure more men to the event. I believe him, but the boyishly satisfied smirk he flashed when I asked him the question indicated that being heavily outnumbered by beautiful women doesn’t bother him too much.

Not Havana Clue: Six adjacent Buckhead art galleries teamed up for a joint exhibition on Friday evening called White Linen. I’d read and heard that the event was supposed to be Cuban-themed, but other than some free Cuban drinks, the event had no evident Latin theme. An Enrique Iglesias CD was playing in Galerie Timothy Tew, but it was as evocative of Cuba as Pepe Le Pew cartoons are of France.

That’s not to say that the art wasn’t beautiful, because it was. Contemporary art collector and enthusiast Dr. Dave Capouano pointed me to my favorite pieces of the evening, the heroic yet serene bronze sculptures of Tuan at the Trinity Gallery. Upstairs at Trinity, the clear acrylic pieces by the late Atlanta-born sculptor Frederick Hart were also impressive. Judging by how long and how closely people stared at them, it’s fair to say they were one of the evening’s big hits. If any of it had anything to do with Cuba, will someone please explain it to me?

I, of the Tiger: I really enjoyed Ocelot’s show at The Earl on Saturday night because I’m a fan and because it saved me from having to go to the Bedtime Stories pajama party at Karma. I was actually looking forward to the Bedtime Stories party, but attendees were supposed to wear pajamas and I couldn’t find any that I liked at Target that afternoon. Rather than show up inappropriately attired, I went to see Ocelot.

Ocelet is an Atlanta-based instrumental rock band whose music is frequently compared to another more famous animal-named instrumental band, Tortoise. It’s probably flattering to Ocelot, but the bands are very different. If Tortoise is the soundtrack of a trippy dream sequence in an indie detective film, Ocelot is the soundtrack of the chase scenes. The college-aged audience was very reverent, so reverent that Kim Hoeckele, a delightful cigarette vendor, told me that she felt like she was interrupting a private moment between the audience and the band when she peddled her smokes.

The Rest of the Column Is Totally Improvised: The folks at the Whole World Theatre in Midtown have come up with a clever way to help meet the overwhelming demand for their sold-out live improv comedy shows. They broadcast the shows to a large screen television in the theatre’s lobby. You can walk in off of the street, relax on one of the couches, and watch the entire show on the TV for free. It’s a cheap-date paradise.

Admittedly, the show does lose some of its punch if you’re not in the room with the performers, but it’s still very funny and it’s very free. My favorite skit was a pre-recorded video of actor Michael Sweeney busking with an acoustic guitar in the Virginia-Highlands. Instead of folk or rock covers, Sweeney walked up to people and interrupted them with annoying improvised songs about how he was interrupting them. Does the joy that I derive from watching someone be a complete jackass mean that I’m a jackass too? Don’t answer that.??