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We turned up dozens of hipsters barely over their acne, two drag queens named Ellen Degenerate and Miss Construed, a bunch of my students from the University of Baltimore, and, briefly, John Waters, but even the open-minded and dauntless Rainbow Bright could find nothing of concupiscent consequence. we finished the last of our vodka-sodas and called it a night. "Reminds me of France," commented Strawberry, but this apparently was not a good thing, as she took all of ninety seconds to case the joint and head for the door.
Just a few weeks prior, Rainbow Bright and I had hoofed it through 13.5 Wine Bar, the Hon, Fraser's, Holy Frijoles, Joe Squared, Metro Gallery, The Depot, Club Charles, and several no-name spots on Howard Street. (By the way, though you may not think of the Remington neighborhood as a happening party district, I just saw it written up in the Southwest Airlines magazine as the next big thing, which I found sort of scary.) In any case, this tiny, candlelit bar is my favorite, with its funky speakeasy ambience and its mismatched vintage glasses.We stampeded through One-eyed Mikes, Kooper's, Duda's, Cat's Eye, and The Horse You Rode In On.Sundry gentlemen along the trail returned the ecstatic smile I had plastered on my face; still, Strawberry saw no one to slow her down.So I gave up my Harbor East platinum-card fantasies and ventured into gritty Fell's Point proper, first stopping at Loring Cornish's mosaic gallery for a pizzazz infusion."Loring Cornish radiates sex," according to my neighbor Pam Stein, referring to the artist's habit of engaging in various sweaty and muscular artistic labors on the sidewalk in tiny boxer shorts and nothing more.