Well north of Dixie, southern dance culture is having a moment.
In February, Gottscheer Hall in Ridgewood, Queens started hosting a monthly hoedown, and damn Yankees can’t get enough.
“New York has turned into Nashville, they’re lovin’ it,” Evelyn Meyer, 70, a lifelong Ridgewood resident and country music fan told The Post.
The “Honky Tonkin’ in Queens” nights typically sell out well in advance and attract a diverse crowd of line dancers, older neighborhood folks and young scenesters from near and far who are excited to sport a Stetson, large belt buckle or cowboy boots.
The twang-tastic evenings are the brainchild of local country music DJs Charles Watlington and Johny Nichols, who were inspired by the 99-year-old venue’s space.
“We thought ‘this place has a great dance floor! We should do a show here!” said Watlington, AKA DJ Moonshine. “We’ve found that at many country shows here in NY you kind of just sit or stand and stare at the performer. We wanted to create more of an atmosphere that would be reminiscent of the old dance halls.”
To do this, the pair not only book popular performers — including the internet-famous clogger Zeb Ross — but put out cards and dice on every table alongside a full food and drinks menu. A cash bar on a folding table in the back corner provides whiskey shots and beer while the main bar at the front is also open through the evening.
“I feel like it’s the first thing I’ve been to in New York in a long time where people are down to interact with random people,” said Kew Gardens resident Sinjun Strom, who finally made it to last Friday’s sold-out show after hearing about it from her friends all year. “I can’t remember the last time I danced with so many people I didn’t know.”
Early in the evening, the main attraction is line dancing that tends to require at least some sobriety. By the end of the night, the floor generally becomes too crowded for much coordinated dancing and dissolves into drunken merriment and lightly southern-influenced swaying. The music is a mix of live acts and favorite old records, such as Ed Bruce’s When I Die, Just Let Me Go To Texas.
Watlington and Nichols note that New Yorkers who hail from the south and west have given their stamp of approval.
“This is pretty legit,” said 24-year-old consultant Ethan Schmitt, who grew up attending honky tonks at biker bars in South Dakota.
For Williamsburg resident Justin Keefer, 39, it’s just authentic enough.
“We’re clearly not in Texas,” he said. “But it’s a good reason to put your boots on.”