“Have you met my friend, the fern?” said a woman in a fur coat to her friend, stroking the potted plant by the entrance to the room at the Tribeca Grand where Jarvis Cocker was DJing. The line was short, but ever expanding, and everybody was getting antsy. Supermodel Fatima Siad and her date walked delicately to the front of the line amid waves of irritation.
We made it inside just as Mr. Cocker was stepping off the stage. Pictures of Kurt Cobain in his famous white-framed sunglasses covered the fall wall, and rainbow spotlights lit the room. Tennessee Thomas was next on the turntables, and her whole set was inexplicably devoted to music from the 1960’s (perhaps because of Kurt’s mod glasses?). Nearly the entire soundtrack to Dirty Dancing was played.
The party was in photographer Jesse Frohman’s honor, but he sat outside the main room, sipping a drink in the hotel’s restaurant area.
“I knew Kurt was not really into publicity and fame, so I thought, well, maybe he’s not gonna be into it,” Mr. Frohman said, remembering the day of the photoshoot. “Plus, he came down three hours late. But he let his guard down completely, he really reveals himself in his gestures.”
Around midnight, The Virgins started their set, and the room, which had been half-filled for a while, was packed again.
Ms. Siad danced next to us with her date, until he stepped back into the crowd and disappeared. Ms. Siad looked around in confusion for a moment, then grabbed our hand and danced with us until he returned 30 seconds later.
“I love your necklace!” she said.
All line-cutting was forgiven, obviously.
Mr. Frohman mused about what Mr. Cobain’s reaction would be to a party thrown in honor of his photographed image.
“He’d think it was silly and ridiculous,” Mr. Frohman said. “He represents something much more now than his music, and I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”
The closest the DJs came to playing Kurt’s music (at least before we went home) was David Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World,” which Nirvana covered.