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Snobs and queens By Marke B.› superego@sfbg.com SUPER EGO Actual conversation heard outside the new wine joint SNOB (Sonoma Napa Oenophile Bar) on Polk Street: Dude A "Dude! You gonna catch some golf this weekend?" Dude B [spitting on the sidewalk] "Yeah, brah, me and Melinda are flying down to Pebble Beach!" Dude A "Dude! That's so gay!" Melinda "We are gay!" [More spitting.] How could I not? I entered SNOB's well-appointed, nifty digs, and, as a soft jazz interpretation of "I Will Always Love You" floated above my head — pan flutes, marimbas, acoustic guitars (I shit you not) — I realized I had walked onto the set of Dynasty. But everyone was 22. Where had these people come from? And, more important, where had their clothes come from? The place was packed at midnight with folks who looked like they'd just Cessna'd in from the manicured wilds of Northern California, and all they talked about was golf and grapes and tailors and gyms and how they'd just really tried to quit smoking, but does anyone have a fine Cuban? (Thank you, I've already had several.) I swear, one young lady in a fuzzy pink sweater set with pearl buttons was even sporting frosted hair. You can't even see that on the teevee any more. Well, maybe Fox News. Is there some kind of baroque preppy renaissance of the haute bourgeoisie that I'm missing? I felt like Jane Goodall among the trust fund monkeys, flipping my little notebook out in a jungle of shoulder pads, houndstooth evening jackets, and jangling sweater spangles. But in the end it was actually kind of ironic fun. You should slip on your blood-red penny loafers (no socks!) and go. The wine selection's tight, there are plenty of exotic tasting events, and the servers/sommeliers aren't above sharing a raised eyebrow or two with you at the odd snippet of overheard convo. In its press, SNOB claims to be "attitude-free," but that's about as truthful as a stick of gum (and just as fun). And hey, if there can be a club called Faggot that all the faggots go to, and a club called the Crib that all the underage kids go to, why can't there be a club called SNOB that all the ... well, you follow. Next, look out for Herpes B, coming soon to a venue near you. Shameless plug Yes! Shameless! Trannyshack's 10th anniversary is coming up, and if I don't pump it hard, Trannyshack cofounder and feisty doyenne of SF's trash-drag scene, Heklina, will have my head (she already puts her phone to her garbage disposal and turns it on loud whenever I call). But beyond pure self-preservation, I gotta give Trannyshack props for 10 whole years in the club biz — hell, it's a wonder those poor bloody queens can make it to the end of a two-hour show, let alone the end of a decade. Kidding! Don't stab me in the underwear! The posh 'n' naughty Supperclub is hosting a giant gala dinner–dance party this weekend that also features a photo retrospective of Trannyshack's hilariously stomach-turning antics by perennial scenester Shutterslut. And of course, all the city's top (and bottom) drag queens will be there: Princess Kennedy, The Steve Lady, Glamamore, and lord knows who else they're gonna drag out of the grave and prop up with a wine glass, but there'll be a whole lot of them. The best news is, much of it's free. Go, or you might wake up with a horse-faced drag queen's head in your bed. If you don't already. * SNOB Sun.–Wed., 4 p.m.–11 p.m.; Thurs.–Sat., 4 p.m.–midnight 1327 Polk, SF (415) 440-SNOB www.sfsnob.com TRANNYSHACK 10-YEAR ANNIVERSARY Sat/25 Gala 5–7p.m. Performance and feast, 7:30 p.m. Dance party with DJ Derek 10 p.m.–3 a.m. Supperclub 657 Harrison, SF Gala free, performance-feast $60, dance party $10 (415) 348-0900 www.supperclubsf.com www.heklina.com
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