Early '90s' New York was a fantastic place to be. Brimming with talent, looks and excitement, the club scene unleashed an avalanche of party monsters only eager to do their mash. Those carefree pre-Giuliani days were truly unprecedented and so far never bettered. Some media pundit called them "a world of disorientation, drug-induced euphoria and glamour beyond belief". Suddenly a new crop of club kids set about throwing their weight around Manhattan's dancefloors. They were out to shock. Like John Waters observed, "freaks should scare families, not make them feel good about themselves." The outfits weren't just outrageous, they had disturbing, apocalyptic references, thanks to a lot of war paint, accessories and twisted imagination. These freaks were bent on shattering the whiter-than-white conventions and cliches. Ironically, they also secretly longed to be part of it, if only because they so wanted to be famous. Curtains came down complete with foul play in the spring of '96. It truly marked the end of an era as New York's clubland never saw lip-gloss quite so shimmering again.