Peeve of the Week: Hypocritical Dress Codes

comradgrumpyA few weeks ago, I tried getting into Inspire Theater but was turned away. I was wearing a button-down shirt, a pair of slim jeans, casual sneakers and—gasp—a baseball cap. The bouncer looked at my hat and pointed to a sign: “Tasteful attire required.” I demonstrated to him that the hat, like hats everywhere, was removable, but to no avail. Meanwhile, the rooftop DJ was blasting rap songs, including Ludacris’ “My Chick Bad,” the uncensored version, with tasteful lyrics such as “My bitch bad, my bitch good. My bitch do shit that your bitch wish she could.” I get that the defenders of Downtown’s renaissance want to stay classy—and, hey, so do I, my friend. But if you’re going to look down on everyone else, at least be consistent and put in a jazz band. Don’t play music by and for people you wouldn’t let in.



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