Corporate Whores

Last month's Corporate Whores party, organised by the Space Hi-jackers at Limehouse Town Hall was monumentally good. I arrived late, dressed in my short, cabaret lace and satin number with a flouncy skirt and green flash baseball boots on my feet.. wobbling along Commercial Road towards Limehouse.

Not having frequented Limehouse much before, I had to ask friends several times for directions...and felt a bit lame for doing so, as I've been living in the East End for the best part of a decade now. Unforgivable really. My Aussie neighbour Jo, and five of her friends had gone on ahead and were already there. When I asked one of them for directions, he told me to look for St.Anne's Limehouse..."The Church with the highest clockface in London" he said.

After my futile queries of passers-by bore no fruit (probably because they were all German tourists, ironically staying in the East End which they so badly bombed in the war....enough of that)... I suddenly looked up and spied an illuminated steeplejack, which turned out to be the top of the Spire of St. Anne's.

Now, living as I do, close by Hawksmoor's other masterpiece, Christchurch in Spitalfields, I have never expected Hawksmoor to have produced an equally astounding building elsewhere...but suddenly as I rounded a corner on my wheels, and teetered along a cobbled alley which can't have changed much since the 18th Century...there it was. I rounded a corner and breathless, looked up to be confronted by the magnificent entrance gates, steps and entrance to St. Anne's church. The gates were graced with a plinth telling the viewer a condensed history of Hawksmoor's life. But more amusing and immediate was the plastic coated sign stuck to the gate below the church opening times, which stated, "All sinners are welcome at our Sunday service (between 10am-6pm), but no drugs or alcohol are allowed inside the churchyard, and all dogs must be kept on a lead." A confusing message for sinners.

I quickly took two photographs of the church entrance with its batmanesque illuminated clockface - art decoish.

It was then, as I made a circuit of the churchyard, that I noticed a wrought iron fire escape full of people smoking on a side of a large building, must be the smoking gallery for the party...either that or a very long toilet queue...

I found the front entrance of the town hall, fronting on to Limehouse Road, presenting a parochial Victorian facade of heavy pillars and oak doors which were half open, revealing a table just inside the front entrance...behind which sat three intriguingly dressed gentlemen...one Asian guy in a slanting Trilby hat, pinstrip suit, cravate, braces and spats...looked immaculate Bugsy Malone, while the other two resembled, first a member of ZZ Top clad in a brocade waistcoated suit with a flowing blonde mane of hair which easily rivalled any girl's...topped off with a long beard.

The third was uncommonly tall and lean, with a stoop and Beatnik fringe...

They welcomed me in and for the princely sum of only £3 I was admitted to an Aladdin's Cave of delights....

I cinched my bicycle to the curved oak bannister rail and proceeded up to the next landing where I immediately ran into two friends, Phil and Richard, from Reclaim the Streets days. Live music was blasting from an open doorway...I had to investigate.

Inside the main dance hall on the first floor, there was a stage with to the right of it a bar and a 'Kissing Booth' with girls inside ready waiting to oblige customers..in the right hand corner behind me was a series of sofas for chilling out on. Above and behind my head was a balcony from which to look down on the party below.

The funk band onstage were bringing the crowd gradually to a frenzy...the lead singer, bellowed out her Aretha style vocals accompanied by a saxaphone, keyboards, guitar and drums.

Looking around me I saw that people had really made an effort to look like a corporate Whore. Phil was dressed in what looked like a black gym tunic with fishnets and Dr Marten shoes...topped off with a black jacket, white shirt and tie...Richard meanwhile was definitely middle-management, in his salmon pink office shirt, and Star Wars tie, and NHS management style specs...he could easily have been on the set of 'The Office'....or the IT Crowd...

My neighbour Jo had excelled herself in a pale pink satin corset over a ruched black lace blouse and a black pencil skirt...she looked stunning...and truly a corporate whore...as did her friend Katie, who had on a matching pale pink satin blouse., pearls and black satin skirt with black platform stillettoes...They were turning heads.

The tallest man with them did not fit in. He hadn't made an effort at all..which just made me think that he really was a corporate whore...the type who always wear a pair of expensive jeans and a clean t-shirt to everything. Showed a clear lack of imagination. At least his 2 friends had made an effort and donned good suits.

I marched up to him, leaned in provocatively and said:

"Amazing to see so many of my old friends here from the anti-car protest movement."

"Errrr, you won't like me then. I've got an evil car, a fast black BMW, very thirsty...(said with expression of smugness).

"That's nothing, I've been foxhunting. And what's worse, I work in the press office for the department that banned it (looks suitably chastened).

And with that I stalked off - my tail held aloft, in the air.

Richard and I hadn't seen each other for a while - not since partying after the Climate change March last year. We headed upstairs to find a cupboard in which to hide our rucksacks and jackets. R produced a bottle of vodka from his jacket pocket..to which we added two tumblers of orange juice - cheap at 50p a shot - from the bar...and carried on like that all night.

We explored the upper echelons of this large building but were frustrated to find that the more enticing doors had been disappointingly locked - presumably to keep the likes of us out...and this reminded both of us of numerous trips to National Trust properties, where the most exciting part of the house is usually gated off with a skein of red brocade rope.

Intriguingly, the central stairwell and atrium of the town hall appeared to be joined to another old house next door. The house was semi-detached and through a large glass window you could see straight through internally from the main stair well to what looked like some one's office or living room.... The lights were on, and maybe they were home. We hovered and took pictures...hoping to see some one wandering around naked...but no joy.

Back inside, on the dancefloor...I spied a man in extremely high platform heels, fishnets and a very short skirt..with a pointy beard. He had really good legs and great balance...and seemed to move naturally on those heels as if he'd been born to it.

I started to photograph people with my portable, automatic flash pocket camera...which has yielded surprisingly good results in the past. A man in a suit dancing next to me had a bright red devil's mask with pointy black horns on the back of his head...I asked him if I could photograph it...he obliged me.

Two girls in short PVC skirts, their hair up in kirbigrips and bunches St. Trinian style, were parading around in impossibly high platform heels, reminiscent of Torture Garden. One of them carried a long whip...which she smacked people with. She told me she used to use if when riding dressage horses.

My neighbour Jo, had been busy meanwhile...at the last count she had been seen snogging three men in various locations, on the sofa, in the stairwell...and was not short of admirers. I wanted to talk to her but daren't interrupt the incessant courtship...

Later on, after midnight and numerous trips to the upstairs filing cabinet for refills from the vodka bottle...Richard and I found a large balcony and gallery which opened out above the dancefloor...you could see the green lazer beams dancing above people's heads. I snapped away some more.

Richard and I went outside with a couple of girls - sisters - one of whom had been friends of his at Cambridge...they wanted to skin up, smoke and look at the stars. I wanted to show them the amazing church and the quiet back street.

We lay on our backs on the pavement, smoking and gazing upwards at the black velvet night sky...One of the girls told us that she was a researcher working for a famous film director...and that tonight she was having to move out of his house and into a hotel, because his fiancee was coming to stay...and she didn't want to be in the way.

I gently plied her with questions about who this mystery director might be...but she resisted at first. Then she said she'd just found out that she would have to go to LA soon to start work on a new film....

She said she'd been staying in Wilkes St, Spitalfields. "But that's where I live" I exclaimed..."But not in the posh Georgian quarter..I'm in the worker's cottages round the back of Brick lane."
"So, is that where this director fellow lives then?" I pried..

"Yes, he originally came from Islington..his parents used to run the Angel puppet theatre."

"Really? that's where I used to go as a child every day after school. Great puppet shows."

"Well, his name is Joseph Wright, Jo Wright..."

"Not the director of Atonement?"

"Yes."

"Soon to be married to Rosamund Pike? I saw them on TV at the BAFTAS. He seemed camp. Isn't he gay?"

"No, he's a bit of a ladies' man really. We're not convinced that he ever will marry Rosamund. He's such a commitment phobe and a flirt."

"Oh dear. But how could some one not want to marry her? she's so gorgeous..a real bond girl. A real Hitchcock, Hollywood blonde."

"Yes, well. we'll see..."

"You sound quite cynical about him. "

"No, no. Please don't misunderstand me. Jo's been so very good to me. He' s a real sweetie really. You know he lets me stay in his house for free...and I even share his bed and he's very good and stays on his side of the bed and everything. He has a sleeping bag of his own."

"Really? And you've never been tempted to, y'know?"

"Well, we did that a long time ago. We had a fling ages ago when we first met. But that's all in the past. He's a good friend now. And he says he's going to make me his first production assistant on his next film. And I'm going out to LA to work with him on the next one."

"Really, that sounds exciting. But isn't LA full of rich, 4x4 driving maniacs, celebrity wannabes and pollution? "

"Well, yes. But the weather is gorgeous. The sun shines every day. I could get used to that."

I came away from this encounter wondering whether the poor, hapless girl with the watery blue eyes smarting from hay fever - hadn't been heartlessly exploited by Jo Wright...

And aware that he was now virtually my neighbour, wondered what I'd say to him if I came across him in my local.

They left, and we mosied back to the party for the last hour.

Around 1am...just as everyone was starting to flag a bit....amazing samba band, 'Be Loco' came on to stir the crowd into wakefulness....an African and and South American combo..they tormented and teased the crowd with a few tantalising intro's. I saw Simon from the Hackney Samba band, his blond mohican bobbing up and down in the middle of the assembled throng...nodding with respect and awe..as they gradually built their rhythms up and up.. to a crescendo.

As I was dancing I noticed that the man with the devil mask was dancing next to me again...we smiled at each other, then started chatting. Eventually we went out to the balcony for a cigarette..I've never seen so many men in wigs before.

He laughed at my jokes. Yes, he even got them. Got me.

And later we left the party together...wandering slowly towards Mile End old town and Tredegar Square, via the newsagents to stock up on chewing gum and cashew nuts.

I'd never seen Tredegar Square before..it was so elegant. Reminded me of Merrick Square in Borough..just off Borough High Street...with its spooky Victorian church in the middle.

As we got to the front door, the dawn chorus was starting. And I reflected on the fact that it was the third time in a wk for me.