I love disco dancing – I just can’t shake the feeling. Or I just don’t want to. When I was 17, nights out disco dancing happened once or twice a month. All night, all dancing, every single time. My hair slick with gel — it was as if we weren’t ageing. Now, the chance doesn’t come up as often as I’d like and my disco dancing companions have dwindled down to single figures (also, I’ve discovered I was and am ageing…). Ironic considering. Babies have got in the way. Jobs have overtaken that dance-floor passion which once stampeded over everything. Procreation has dwarfed the very passion that makes it all possible. People get their kicks in other ways. When the babies aren’t crying, that is…

Disco dancing never asked anybody permission. Respect that fact.

When that chance does come, I’m out there, out on the floor. Try and fucking stop me and see what happens! My shapes may have changed, but none of that matters, and new 30-something-friendly moves have replaced them, fresh for this era. Walk into that room and you may as well be on another planet.

Lose your phone. Here, no internet is needed. Make your own dreams, make things happen your way.

If you’re disco dancing, you don’t give a shit about nothin’. Everyone around you is smiling and glowing, throwing arms, stealing shapes and touching bodies. Time is a forgotten concept. They’re not normal people anymore. In the disco hall, occupations refuse to exist. The entire world is shut out as if it never was in the first place. Everyone is smiling, throwing arms, loving the music. There are no enemies.

With disco, the sensation of endless possibility is infectious.

The default setting is always cool.

Nothing else has ever mattered. As long as that music is playing, you have no business thinking about the world outside.

Seriously, don’t bring phones here!

Saturday Night Fever is one of my all-time favourite films in the whole entire world. It’s a film born from disco’s one-time golden era – fiction dredged from the mucky guts of real life, playing out on a back-drop of New York grimness which is a total contrast to the dancing and the music. You just can’t hate the polyester. It’s about racism, coming to terms with how amazing and terrible the world is. It’s a film about finding yourself, friendship and doing what’s right. A film about the ugly thing lurking around every corner. Hormones and friendship and singing in very high voices.

Every time I hear that someone hates disco dancing, or despises Saturday Night Fever, I almost want to cry. Over the years I’ve got a lot of abuse for my love of disco dancing and lovin’ Saturday Night Fever in general. But then, disco teaches you not to care.

The default setting is cool, everyone is throwing arms, loving the music…

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