On weekend nights, a gang of young men with mod haircuts and chest-baring vests loiters outside the entrance. Nearby, a corresponding group of girls with neon-colored hair and lips swelled by botox injections wobble on six-inch heels; their comings and goings are more frequent than those of their male companions. Aside from this cohort of regulars, the shop is frequented by a spectrum of north Tehran residents looking to stock up on cigarettes, mixers and late-night snacks. The crowded and brightly lit interior creates a tense atmosphere as shoppers avoid eye contact, anxious to hide the drops of sweat on their brows and the liquor on their breath.While many Iranians consume alcohol inside their homes, they rarely do so in the presence of strangers. Society abides by the old Persian adage that "Whatever goes on between four walls, stays between those walls," and spaces like Super Jordan offer a rare confrontation with reality. While condemned activities like extramarital sex, drinking, prostitution and drug abuse are commonplace, rarely are they dragged into the public sphere -hence the discomfort of Super Jordan's late-night patrons.Tehran is home to dozens of such grey zones, where illegal activities of various gradients are tolerated. They include squares where streetwalkers in lipstick and workplace hijab wait for customers, their presence so commonplace that any woman seen standing on the street after 10 pm can be mistaken for a sex worker. On weekend nights, certain streets in north Tehran are overrun by young playboys who cruise around in expensive sports cars in search of one-night stands, whether for a fee or pro bono. Then, there are cafes and restaurants where management stays mute if patrons pour something stronger into their virgin mojitos, as well as parks and mountain trails north of the city where high-school couples can arrange a rendezvous away from the prying eyes of parents and other authorities. Only indoors is all discretion thrown to the wind. While the threat of a police visit overshadows most house parties, the code of four walls gives hosts a sense of safety, even entitlement. Respect for the code varies from neighbor to neighbor, but even when the police are summoned, revelers have multiple avenues to avoid flogging, the nominal penalty for drinking alcohol. The process is depicted in Absolutely Tame is a Horse, a 2011 film whose main character, a policeman, spends his night shift scouting out house parties and extorting bribes from hopelessly drunk co-hosts. In the end, the policeman is revealed to be an impostor. (The director has said the Culture Ministry convinced him to change the original ending.) Still, the film illustrates the widespread practice of bribery and the attitudes of law enforcement, who are usually willing to adjust their fee according to the scale of the party and the social status of the residents.For the wealthy and the well-connected, the boundaries of hedonism are limited only by the spatial confines of their villas or luxury apartments. Some outfit their homes with back-lit bars and DJ tables, transforming their homes into nightclubs at the flick of a light switch. There are strobe-lit discos where girls in bikinis spray guests with water guns, and embassy-district shindigs in which all counter space is taken up by imported alcohol. Then, there are parties based around film screenings, dance performances and concerts by underground bands, where members of the cultural scene gather to critique each other's projects, sway to 1970s-style rock music or enjoy some Persian-tinged flamenco. Most of the time, however, they are simple gatherings where friends and acquaintances gather in search of release from daily pressures. Nastaran, a 33-year-old translator, says throwing regular parties in her two-bedroom central Tehran apartment gives her something to look forward to as she goes through the weekday grind. "I get up after 6, splash some water on my face and head out into the traffic. In the evenings, if I'm lucky, I make it home by 8, eat dinner and go to bed. If I didn't have this" - she says, raising up her glass of bootleg liquor - "what kind of life would I have?"Amtin, 35, a regular user of party drugs and hallucinogenics, puts it another way. After engaging his listener in a 15-minute lecture on the guidelines of LSD use, he suddenly stops short. "You know how it is here," he says, his tone turning apologetic. "With so much pressure from the outside, sometimes you need to find a way to immigrate, at least internally."(theguardian.com)Bakudaily.az