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The first time Jean-Ba brought me to Toulouse to "meet the parents" we spent the first evening out. In a club. With a group of his rugby friends. At a mega-boîte called l'Esmeralda. Somewhere in the outskirts of Toulouse. Constructed and last decorated in 1979. Murray Head on heavy rotation.
It was "ladies night." The great majority of the ladies, who were also the great majority of the clientele, were at least twice the age of all of Jean-Baptiste's friends, then in their early twenties. To the great glee of these young blockheads, er, studs, most of the women were divorcees, probably with a kid or two. They were convinced that ces femmes-là were looking for fresh meat. Which we had apparently come to provide. Really.
Leopard print, frosted bobs, wonder bras, slim cigarettes and intelligent/lewd conversation were out in full force. I remember thinking to myself, "I need to form a pact with a girlfriend: if at 40 I find myself in a mega-boîte, gyrating lustily on a young drunk dude's thigh, a Virginia Slim sticking to my lip, in a leopard-print bodysuit, please shoot me."
I was such a snot back then. And short-sighted! L'Esmeralda burned down to the ground last summer... mysteriously... and has since made a comeback as the multi-generational nightclub of Toulouse.
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