There’s something very sexy about a jazz club.
It’s about the dim lighting, the black and white photographs on the walls, the smoky atmosphere.
The bar. Always the bar. Women sitting on stools in gorgeous dresses, legs crossed over, wearing high heels. Cocktails.
Men standing, knocking back whisky, admiring the women.
All of us admiring the jazz.
The smooth sexy sound of the saxophone.
The brass of the trombone.
The double bass and the centrepiece piano.
And the smartly dressed drummer.
I went to the Orbit Jazz Club last night. I went for the music.
And the music was beautiful. Sultry jazz, sexy jazz, jazz that made you feel free.
I’d dressed up. I sipped a mojito. I was alone. I never spoke to anyone.
And I loved it.
Until the end, when another jazz lover came over to join me.
And then I made the choice whether to go home as I’d come.
Or with her.
And that’s the thing about jazz.
It gives you permission to do anything.
Pic courtesy of The Orbit, taken on International Jazz Day, Three Steps Within.