The red lipstick glitter disco river bank summer night

Last Thursday I got a phone call from my childhood friend Hanna. She is in Berlin now on a business trip, hitting Hamburg next and then going all the way to Switzerland. “Shall we meet tonight” “Of course” In our youth, Hanna and me have been best friends. When we met in a Pizzaria in one of the most vivid streets of this town, we realize that we haven’t seen each other for almost three years.

Hanna’s look has become much more ordinary than what I remember, a pink cardigan instead of second-hand T-shirts, jeans instead of self-made skirts. I look much more alternative stylish than three years ago with my XL-print T-Shirt, my stylish bangs, ballarina shoes and kitsch red lipstick. Hanna complains about all those London fashion victims here in Berlin, I love their pop iconicity. 

We talk about her trips to Taiwan, Laos, Thailand, my trips to Poland, Spain and the Balkans. “Your trips were probably much more exciting because South East Asia is so westernized,” she tells me. Then, about common childhood friends “Elke got married, Lena now works as a secretary,” faded boyfriends, the usual. Hanna gets a phone call from some people from her group going to a pub. She asks me if I want to join. The only obligation I have is to be at work tomorrow morning at 10 – of course I do. 

We meet in a bar on a raft on the river Spree. It is a beautiful summer evening – the best way the city can present itself. People enjoy an after-work beer, there is chill techno music in the background. The Berlin mosquitos are the greatest in the world because they don’t eat us alive. Hanna and her friends from work tell me how much they love the city, the openness of the people, the art that is in the air, or rather sprayed on run down buildings. I have to agree, in moments like this, I love this city. 

After one beer, most of the group leaves because they are tired. I’m shocked, it’s only 11 o’clock. “You must think we’re those hillbillies who don’t know how to party,” one of the girls tells me. The truth is, yes, I guess I’ve become a metropolitan party queen. How can you go to bed on such a beautiful night? Some of the guys want to go to a place that some street musician recommended to them – the Cassiopeia. I’ve heard about it before but have never been there. I don’t want to embarrass myself by admitting that as a Berliner I don’t know this place, so I suggest something else, but they want to go there.

In the end, that choice was perfect. The Cassiopeia is all that 21st century Berlin is about: the mixture of old and new, poor but sexy. It is a run down factory on the river bank, two floors, the walls painted red, a star spangled mirror ball, a city beach in the patio, antique deckchairs and sofas, a place to play ping pong and climb, cheap drinks. The music is hip hop and techno, just what Hanna and me danced to in our youth because the two discos would play nothing else. The public is a mixture of London glitter style tourist from Spanish provincial towns and Berliners in T-shirt, Jeans and Sneakers. My alternative chique lipstick beauty is right in between all that and even Hanna doesn’t feel underdressed.

Hanna is completely transfixed by this place. “I love it, I love it” she keeps shouting. It’s a mixture between the Sage and Kulturbrauerei, the places I go out normally, I think I have to keep this one in mind. Just like 7 years ago, Hanna and me are the first on the dance floor, the guys from our group follow. They are from the same town as Hanna and me, I find out and they went to the same crappy disco there- the B9. On the floor, we perform the worst B9 dancing moves and the glitter people join us when the place starts filling up at 2 o’clock. 

The next day, I’m completely tired when I get to work but after two cups of coffee my red lip stick smile comes back. I love the city of Berlin – thanks to my old school friend I remembered again why I did.