Interview

OZ: Without being nostalgic, what is it that you miss about those Parisian years?

E: Without nostalgia, are you kidding? It is really the fact that it felt like the beginning of an era, the birth of a movement. And, of course, I miss my Solex Moped.

OZ: Talk about Le Palace. Your name is a big part of its myth.

E: I had met Fabrice at Club Sept. He called me his adopted daughter. He gave me the keys of the club to come practice during the day with my band Mathématiques Modernes for our first single, "Disco Rough." Then he told me he was opening a new place and asked if I'd be interested in working the door. The new club was Le Palace. It was the fall of 1977, and I'd hung around enough that I knew everybody who was family to him. So I said, "Okay!" I felt more like a mascot than anything else, and that was all right with me. I was on top of the world. I loved them, and they loved me. The renovations of the place were so exciting-Fabrice Emaer, Sylvie Grumbach, Claude Aurensan, Guy Cuevas the DJ, everyone pitching in. It was a historic moment in the Parisian nightlife-the opening night in March of 1978!

OZ: Tell us about the opening, the Grace Jones concerts, and some of the first parties.

E: The opening is a little blurry for me. I was 20 years old with a power position and six or eight bodyguards. I didn't see much of what happened inside, but the street was blocked off by people wanting to get in. Being over 6 feet tall and on a step, I could see who was of importance or who was cool-like we said, "It's not what you wear, it's how you wear it." Believe it or not, I might have made that one up! Fabrice told me: "This is our home. Invite in only the people we know or the people you're comfortable with." And for some reason I had the knack. People still talk about it today, how special they felt when I picked them, or how good I was at recognizing the elite and parting the peeps sea to make it easier to get in. It was really a matter of feeling. If it is my home, I don't want to let a tuxedoed asshole in but maybe a sweet kid that looked fierce. Christian Louboutin, for example, was 16 or 17 at the time. He and his little gang soon became part of ours. The first parties were always over-the-top. Loulou and Thadée [Klossowski]'s costume party, Grace's concert, Prince's concert, my New Year's Eve in '78. It was grand, chic, elegant, decadent, novo, punk de salon-insane by today's standards. There will never be another Studio 54 or another Le Palace, until Steve Rubell and Fabrice Emaer reincarnate . . .

OZ: Describe a normal evening at Le Palace.

E: To describe an evening is impossible because it was always so unpredictable. Never normal. We didn't have cell phones but we always managed to stay in contact-one would call another who would call another, etc. Since Le Palace was home, we usually went together at the beginning of my shift. Why waste a minute? Again, I will emphasize the family factor. Everyone working at Le Palace at the time knew each other from Club Sept, the youngsters and the elders. We'd have a bite to eat and run to our nocturnal sanctuary, run around the place for hugs and kisses, and take our respective spot-door, DJ booth, bar, or dance floor. The Privilege became a lesbian night on Sundays in the mid-'80s. It was the beginning of cute lipstick lesbians and still mixing with the older guard. It was great. Fabrice would have loved it . . . but sadly he had passed by then.

OZ: Fabrice Emaer created Le Palace. Tell us about him.

E: I adored Fabrice. He was the god of the Parisian nightlife: grand, generous, and yes, fabulous. It was impossible not to like him, not to love him. Celebrities, gorgeous women, and gorgeous men, straight or gay, lined up to receive a kiss, a glance, a "How are you my bébé?" d'amour.

OZ: Le Palace had such a diverse mixture: straight and gay, young and chic, mixed with old and rich. That was something new. You brewed a strange mix.

E: It is absolutely true; the essence of life was brewing in that club, from the ultimately famous to the completely unknown discovering each other. Artists would find inspiration, designers would find ideas or new faces and styles, anyone could find love, for a night or a lifetime. I remember fondly those who left us. My dear [French DJ and musician Philippe] Krootchey passed away a couple of years ago, and probably many more I wasn't told about. But as for those who are still around, when we see each other it feels like where we left off. The last time I saw Grace in New York at a club where I had a party, she jumped over the table to hug me. We spent days together after that talking of the old days. I really don't know what's going on in the Parisian nightlife nowadays. In New York, Eric Goode and Serge Becker were the only people to re-create that kind of atmosphere, like they did at Area in the '80s. Suzanne Bartsch still throws a fierce party now and  then. These people are my New York family.