Around 6.15pm on a Friday earlier this month, women of a certain age began to trickle into Fete Music Hall, a venue in Providence, Rhode Island. On the speakers, Whitney Houston was goading them to “feel the heat with somebody”.
But night was refusing to fall, and with a shaft of relentlessly cheerful sunlight pouring through the open door, the mood was less throbbing dance party, more middle-school dance. Apprehensive attendees struggled to figure out what to do with their bodies.