Saturday night, we headed out to Diablitho Latino in the 11th and had a nice night of dancing in one of the coolest salsa joints in town. Herminio, our favorite salsero in Paris wasn't there, but a lot of familiar faces showed out for a friend's birthday. I dig Diablitho Latino. There's good dancers but no salsa snobs (my mind goes back to a night at El Floridita in Hollywood when some guy on the dance floor corrected me on my alleged "extra steps." After which, I showed him some more extra steps and walked away). Diablitho's other big plus is that they stick to good salsa music and don't play zouk. Caribean music's nice enough to listen to, but there's no pulse to it. It makes you want to lay back in a lounge chair with a cocktail served in a coconut rather than get up and dance.
On this particular night, there were way more latin girls at the club than French girls. Or was it just that they were more visible? To state the obvious, latin girls' style could not be any more different from the French. It's like comparing apples and... parachutes. While Parisiennes have their 300 different ways to wear a scarf, the latinas have their skin-tight lycra, huge hoop earrings, and bra straps (or in some cases, entire bras) that intentionally show. Walk into this place from the cold street scene where everyone's bundled up, and it's "Fifi, I don't think we're in Paris anymore."
They say salsa is different between LA, New York and Miami with all that start on the one beat versus starting on the five. Personally, I've never paid attention to all that business. Dancing gets more difficult and less fun if I think too hard about it. There are a few stylistic differences I see in Paris (and I'll talk about the girls because that's usually who you watch more, right?). Parisiennes, though they can dance well, stay straighter and stiffer when they move while girls in LA are all hips and shoulders swiggling all over the place.
People watching aside, the reason we were there was to celebrate lovely Léa's birthday. There were a lot of faces I hadn't seen since her birthday party last year, so it was a sort of Léa's birthday reunion. My husband, who'd never been to a salsa spot before meeting me, showed off his freestyle on the dance floor. We got a good workout in before grabbing our coats and stepping back outside into the cold. Back into November in Paris.