In the sweaty heart of late-’70s Manhattan, Crisco Disco was where pleasure met perfection under a mirrorball. Named after the infamous brand of lubricant that became synonymous with liberation, the club stood at the crossroads of Chelsea and the Meatpacking District, blending disco, decadence, and pure defiance.
Its DJ booth sat inside a giant Crisco can, and the crowd — leather, glitter, and everything in between — danced until sunrise. More than a nightclub, Crisco Disco embodied the radical joy of the pre-AIDS era: when being queer, loud, and sexual was an act of rebellion and art.
