If your New York relationship was good (and by good I mean was able to last longer than the customary three months), it can be exceedingly difficult to let go of. City breakups are rough, and if you partied together, splitting up can also lead to a lot of awkward encounters and hardcore game playing.
So here’s my question: If you have clout at a nightlife establishment i.e. you know the doorman, the owner, the investor who mattered or the security dude, is it socially or morally acceptable to have your ex-significant other banned from the place? Setting up an infrastructure with the powers of the locale so that when your ex walks up to the red rope they’re automatically turned away? A nightlife blacklisting of sorts?
I think the answer to this question is more complicated than it seems. On the one hand, this is spiteful, childish, and clearly illustrates that you still like the person and haven’t moved on. On the other hand, aren’t all relationships, at their fundamental level, a power struggle? And what better way to showcase your power than by excommunicating the former object of your affection from a place that you used to both go to together? And with New York being as large as it is, is it really so much to ask that they party somewhere else?
Just like a messy custody battle, it’s not that easy to divvy up your spots versus my spots. What are former couples supposed to do? Create some sort of calendar that clarifies you can go to Goldbar every Wednesday, Friday and Sunday and he can have full reign of 1 Oak on Saturdays? When there is no tacit agreement, and your request for personal space at Cain is disregarded (meaning your ex shows up and flaunts their new diet and girlfriend in your face) is it okay to use your connections to make sure the club’s staff keeps them out?
Anyone who’s ever had a disastrous clubbing event with an ex, cast your vote here.
When I lived in Milan I knew Ania J. as that sassy, over-the-top diva in my group of girlfriends who was always harassing us to come hang out with her at Milan’s underground club Gasoline. Six years later, this Canadian vocalist has achieved Italian fame and is hard to miss in the European club culture. She’s in your face no matter what musical genre, vocalizing over beats aside top international DJs, as Masters at Work, Joe T Vanelli, Kenny Carpenter, Supernova and more.
In March 2005, Ania J. traveled to Miami for the Winter Music Conference together with producer Giacomo Godi from SUPERNOVA, representing their first single “Rock U,” which hit the top ten charts in the house genre in Europe and New York. Ania J.’s performed at various fashion ceremonies including Dolce & Gabbana, where she shared the stage with Grace Jones, and perhaps most well-known for her regular performances at Milan’s most exclusive nightclub, Chandelier Motel - the dinner theater New York’s The Box is modeled after.
Since America’s a bit behind on the vocalist bandwagon and many clubbers, myself included, don’t fully understand what a vocalist is, I sat down with this “rock star angel” to learn about nightlife through her eyes.
Can you explain what a club vocalist is?
It’s someone who wakes up the crowd and gets them involved with the music. Someone who knows how to intervene with the music, yet not over do it!
How and where did this tradition begin? When did it become popular in nightlife and why?
I used to go to raves in Canada when I was really little and saw people performing vocals at raves. So I think it’s a rave tradition. In the commercial base really started in Italy. It became really popular in Italy and that’s where I was at the time.
Why is it a bigger phenomenon in Europe than America?
I don’t know. See in America you don’t really have vocalists. A vocalist in America is a singer. I think it’s different in Europe because people really like it when you give them attention. Like people really like to hear their name called out if they’re celebrating a special occasion. The crowd likes it when you make them feel good about themselves. People like to stand out in clubs in Europe. They like to be part of the scene, part of the party. So if you involve them with the vocalist and the DJ, they feel like they’re part of the party themselves, not just going out to the club and dancing with three friends. They become one with the entire experience.
You’re originally from Canada. How did your career in music begin and how did you end up in Italy?
I was modelling before I started doing what I’m doing now - before I became a singer / vocalist. I was modelling in Europe (Paris, London, Austria, Greece) and I met this agent who brought me to Milan. And that’s where it all began. I was modelling and going out to clubs a lot. I was going out in Milan more than anywhere else. One of those nights, I drank a little bit more. I saw the mike and I grabbed it. (laughs) It’s the champagne, Dom Perignon. That’s how it all happened.
Had you ever sung before then?
No. As a child, I played the piano by ear. At age seven, I kept asking my dad for a piano. He’d ask me, “Why?” And I’d say, “Because I know I can play!”
But you didn’t have any formal voice training?
Never. No. I was always shy. I was always admiring singers. When I was ten, I remember someone asked me if I had one wish, what would you ask for? And I said I would love to sing in front of an audience of ten thousand people and feel that energy. Whenever they advertised things for kids, toys or whatever that had to do with music, I remember I always wanted them. But I never knew I could sing. I was just always attracted to music.
So after you grabbed the mike that one time, how were you able to make a name for yourself in Milan? How did you start working in nightlife?
It happened on its own. I was lost. I was a model. I didn’t want to go back home without achieving something more or discovering a new dream and knowing what to do with it. I was always very goal oriented as a kid, and I always wanted a dream: The one thing that I could call mine, focus and go for. After I grabbed the mike that one time, a friend of mine came in from Canada and had me do it again as a dare. And we were at a huge party, a fashion party for Andrew Mackenzie, in Milan.
So I went to the DJ and I lied. I told him that I knew Andrew Mackenzie and that he wanted me to take the mike. So I took the mike and started doing some vocals. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I had no clue. Then this guy Filippo Rossi, from Gasoline Club [Milan] came up to me and started asking me what I did and took my number. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to stay in Milan that summer or if I was going home. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was lost. And Filippo really took me under his wing. Gasoline was my school. Filippo believed in me. Anyone else would’ve said, “Get out of here!” cause I think I sucked in the beginning! (laughs)
Then from there people come to the club, see you, and ask you to come to their club. It’s like a chain. A domino effect. And somebody came who worked at Chandelier Motel (Milan) and asked me if I wanted to work there. I said yes and that was six years ago. And at the time I was working as a vocalist at another night in Milan called New York Bar, and I couldn’t really work both of them because they’re hot clubs in the same city – they where in competition. So I decide to try and offer to Chandelier that I would sing. I felt ready to just sing, and at New York Bar I’d just do vocalist so I could work them both. And it just so happened that they both agreed! So I did both of them one night, for one year. I was opening New York Bar, taking a cab, going to Chandelier, singing there, getting in a cab, going to New York Bar, closing the night there and then going back to Chandelier. No one’s ever done that. That was a first in the history of Vocalist!
How do you book jobs?
I have an agent / manager but I also do it myself when it comes to clients I have worked with for over the past six years. You build up a clientele through word of mouth.
Can a person make a career out of working in nightlife?
In Milan, yeah. In Italy, yes. There are vocalist that are forty-something, and they’ve been doing this for twenty years.
What are the pros and cons?
Well, you’re around a lot of alcohol and drugs. That’s the difficult part about working at night. If you’re doing three gigs a week and if you start drinking, you just kind of keep drinking and that gets tiring after awhile. Sometimes you just want to stay in and watch a film like everyone else and you can’t cause you’re working. You also don’t see your friends that much because you’re working on weekends and holidays when everyone gets together. So you’re pretty much always alone. Then if you’re travelling all the time - it’s like any artist - you’re alone all the time.
Tell me about the persona you project when you sing. I know you love wearing wigs and have an over-the-top personal style. Where did this come from?
Honestly, I didn’t really think of it before. I wanted something special. I wanted something my own. I was always really creative. I’d change my clothes from what everybody else was wearing, I’d have the same shirt as someone else, but I’d have to cut it or do something to it to make it different. I used to shop second hand a lot. I’m always looking for something different. Something that when I see it, I know it has my name on it. I really have to like the piece. I like punk-ish, yet elegant and clean. I like bright colors, but I also like black and white. I’m constantly changing. You never know with me. Like with the wigs. I used to wear wigs just going out. You don’t have to style you hair and you get into this other character. You make this big impact. You feel big with a wig! I love big hair. My hair is so thin, and there’s so little you can do with my hair. If I had a huge afro, I’d just leave it like that.
Where’s your favorite place to perform?
Chandelier Motel. Antonio Coppola makes up great choreographies and he always makes me look outstanding on stage surrounding me with dancers acrobats special effects…a little club stage becomes a circus and I love it!!!!
Do clubs need vocalists? Why? What do you bring to a party?
It depends on the club. If it’s really deep house and people just want to go and be in their own little world and dance, than I don’t think they need a vocalist. Sometimes a vocalist can help involve the crowd in the party- and give them something extra. You vocalise and reach out with your voice and energy to them and you’re giving them something. Not just saying, ‘Put your hands up!’ and if you’re singing, you’re really giving them something.
What’s your favorite kind of music?
I don’t have a favorite kind of music. I love music. I love classical music. I love hip hop. I love rock. I love punk, rockabilly, Mozart, house, club, electro. If the song has a good beat, good lyrics and a good melody it could be anything. It could be a country song. I like Garth Brooks. I love Bob Dylan. It’s the song in itself. And I’m such a chameleon with everything, with fashion and music, that I could never just stick to one style.
Can you tell us some of your favorite artists or DJs?
A lot of DJs from New York are not used to working with vocalists. More of the bigger European DJs are okay with it, like David Guetta, Dimitri from Paris, although he was a little skeptical about having a vocalist at first. Other good DJs and club scene artists: Supernova (Italy), Pete Tong, Bruno Bolla (Italy), Princess Superstar, Deep Dish, Joe T Vanelli, Moloko, Peaches (She’s Canadian!)
What’s a vocalist’s relationship with the DJ? Do you two have to be perfectly synergized? Are there ever feuds?
A good vocalist doesn’t work well because of the DJ, they work well because of the music. You have to have the rhythm in your heart and you have to listen. You have to know when he’s mixing. And when he’s mixing, you shut up. When he’s playing and there’s a singing song, you don’t sing on top. That’s where a lot of vocalists go wrong. They sing on top and they ruin the song. You listen to the music and you stay out of the DJs way. You do your own thing. You weave yourself in with the music and the rhythm.
How do you know when to sing and when to shut up?
I feel it. It’s instinct. And I try not to overdo it. I said I try!!!! (laughs)
Do you have every house song in the world memorized?
Are you crazy? I don’t even know the names of the songs. I’ve been working with house music for the past six or seven years. I’ve heard some songs a thousand times and I don’t know the words. When I work I get lost. In my work, in the music, in the people. I’m not there for the DJ. You want to blend in with his music but stand out on your own.
Can a vocalist ever over do it and detract from the music, making a party worse?
Yeah, they can. If they’re screaming all the time. If they’re talking too much. I wouldn’t want to go to a party if I heard one of my favorite songs and someone started yelling over it ‘Put your hands up!’ and screaming at the top of their lungs all the time. Say what you need to say, make it short, make it sweet, and shut up!
Do you sing words? How do you know what to say?
Yeah! I sing words. Or I sing vocals. Skats. I wrote poetry as a child and I love rhyming words and it just comes to me. I pick at things. Like I’ll see a couple fighting in the audience and I’ll hear a beat and I sing -
He loves me
He loves me not
He loves me
He loves me not
Because you get it from them. They feed it to me.
Have you ever been booed off stage or sang for crowd that just wasn’t feeling it?
No, but I was really paranoid at the beginning. If people were looking toward me and laughing I’d always think they were laughing at me. But I think every artist goes through that.
How do you energize a crowd?
I just get in front of the crowd usually in front of or aside the DJ. I grab the mike and begin by announcing the DJ, myself and the party. This usually gets everyone going (it all depends on how you say it). I wait for the pause in the music, this way they can hear me more. I rehearse what I’m about to say in my mind by memorizing names…dates…the event the city I’m in… Sometimes I’ll ask the DJ how long the pause is before the beat kicks in, this way as I’m going up with my voice the music will kick in at the right time of my intro.
What was your best clubbing experience ever?
I used to love going to raves when I was younger. Because of the music. I loved jungle. And I loved dancing. I was in the best shape of my life back then.
Favorite club to go to?
I don’t really like crowded clubs. I like smaller clubs. Only when I’m working do I like big clubs because I like being on stage. I like Gasoline Club Milan because it’s so underground. It’s so tiny and it has its own character. And they change every year. They paint. So one year it’ll be a Barbie theme and everything is pink and gold and then they’ll have a war theme with messages about peace and love written on the wall - its’ like walking into a comic book.
Tell me something you love about New York nightlife.
It all depends on the club you go to…in New York where I was performing at the Mansion, people where going insane dancing and jumping up and down I loved it…but I notice that people in New York prefer more intimate clubs…like The Box, GoldBar… where they can hang with a close group of friends.
Favorite Song?
“Blowing in the Wind” by Bob Dylan
Favorite drink?
Green tea because it’s detoxifying.
Favorite cities to perform?
Milan, New York, Switzerland
Future plans?
I have been working with dual DJ’s producers Supernova (Giacomo Godi, Emilliano Nencioni) in Milan, Italy for the past four years. We have come out with s few singles on the house charts in Europe and U.S. as well as our first album last year Supernova (Downtown Underground), where four of the songs on the album where co-written with me. Two of the songs came out as singles. Silence is the Enemy, & Dude. You can hear the songs and see the videos on www.myspace.com/anotherblondeakaaniaj
I am also working on my own album coming out soon, “Sex, Detox and Rock ‘n Roll.” So keep in touch New York!
The charges had something to do with liquor license violations and a legal problem with the sound system. All I focused on was trying to hide my inherent panic: Where would I go to hear Hip Hop and Bruce Springsteen in the same night? Where would men go to meet models age sixteen and under? Where would Leonardo Di Caprio go to schmooze low key with his entourage?
Luckily, this terrifying series of questions didn’t continue for long. A mere thirty-six hours after the raid, I received a text from one of the owners at Upstairs assuring me it was re-opened and ready for Friday night. That was fast! It wasn’t until I was in the club this weekend that I realized why: The bar was closed.
But don’t think Upstairs was going to let a pesky little thing like a liquor license get in the way of their bash or business plan. They’re just serving bottle service only until further notice – and the creepy part is that is took me twenty minutes to even notice that the bar looked like an abandoned warehouse: a blank wall, utterly void of life, liquor or bar tenders.
Talk about a loophole in the system!
“No, you cannot purchase a vodka on the rocks; I can only sell you the entire bottle.”
Interesting.
I found this similar to how Milan recently enacted laws that prohibit liquor from being sold after 2 AM instead of after 4 AM in order to help prevent drunk driving. Now bartenders scream, “Two AM last call! Everyone get your bottles!” and people stock up on Magnums or just purchase bottles of champagne which they walk around downing as if it were JuicyJuice.
Yes, this is really going to encourage people to drink less.
This is one of those nightlife establishments my heart goes out to. It’s like that really popular kid in high school who had the world at his finger tips, but ultimately ended up staying in his home town, teaching local soccer, and living in his mother’s basement.
This isn’t exactly a negative: Who doesn’t like the comforts of their childhood home’s basement?
The point is that years ago, Cain opened as the hottest thing on the block. I remember it being notoriously hard to get into. I used to quake in my heels at the door thinking about how threatening long-haired euros wielding clipboards looked. And everyone was wowed by their animal head and safari theme.
This was long before Goldbar’s impressive skulls and 1Oak’s ridiculously expensive engraved walls entered the picture, upping club’s decorating requirements significantly.Cain was hot. They had girls in zebra bikinis convulsing on white sides of the club that resembled caravan sheaths, they had drummers in abundance, they had struck an exquisite balance in music that managed to be tribal yet commercial. And who didn’t like their sexy, high ceilinged individual bathrooms? The club reminded me of Pangaea in London, and for that reason alone, I doted on it.
Around the same time, spots like Guest House and Home sprouted up. Twenty seventh street experienced a glorious run, then that dude fell down the elevator shaft of Bed, and the underage girl at Guest House was found chopped up in a dumpster. Consequently, establishments started carding and the street lost some of its shine. Soon it was clear Cain’s owners favored their sparkly, lounge-like younger child Goldbar, and Cain began to feel like an after-thought. The neglected older sibling.
That doesn’t mean there still isn’t fun to be had at Cain. I did a swing through last weekend, and while much has changed (the drummer’s now stationary, the music’s more hip hop, the door’s less daunting) I found the vibe enjoyable and fun.
Why?
Because the club’s lost its pretentiousness. It’s been dethroned. And the benefit of no longer being the coolest kid on the block is that your staff can lose some of the attitude and everyone can stop taking themselves so seriously. The atmosphere becomes laid back, dare I say –relaxing. Yes many of us are masochists who want to go out to be treated like shit only to savor the victory of knowing you achieved entrance into the hottest new place. But I don’t think anyone could categorize Cain’s transformation into kinder, more approachable creature as a ‘bad’ thing. And another animal is entering the Goldbar-Cain family. Cain Downtown in the SoHo area is officially in development. So those of you that enjoy lines, celebrity sightings and doorman abuse should be prepared to shimmy over there.
Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com
Just when you’re trying to enjoy yourself at a space saucer like Mansion where the music’s intense, the disco lights are trauma-inducing and it takes twenty minutes to scale the six staircases to the bathroom, the club fades to black and a girl with butterflies in her cascading hair starts busting out some opera. Because isn’t this why we all go to clubs? To hear whacky versions of Verdi?
I’m confused.
I’ve known Mansion is into doing shows: Last time, I witnessed some electronic string quartet jam along with the DJ. Naturally, everyone remained bewildered about whether to continue dancing or to give the string instruments their full attention while sitting attentively feigning an interest in art. This is what I don’t get. Mansion is as clubby as a club gets. No amount of luxury renovation can kill the Crobar spirit that permanently haunts this space. Why the bouts of LincolnCenter?
Are they trying to pull a theater thing like The Box?
Are they trying to culture the club experience?
Do they consider such spectacles a selling point?
How much is this costing them on top of their frightening rent?
I’m thirsty for theater as much as the next overworked New Yorker, but is when I’m chilling with my fifth cocktail really the time I want it chucked in my face?
Next time at Mansion, I’ll consider packing both earplugs and opera glasses.
Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com
Against better judgment, Saturday night I consumed bourbon-gin-tequila-gin in that order. Why you make ask? No particular reason. It’s in fact nights when nothing special’s going on that one allows alcohol itself to be the centerfold activity. I landed at a restaurant/bar on 6th street and Avenue A named ‘Via Delle Zoccolette’ which specializes in Venetian cuisine, seafood, and locking patrons inside at 4 AM for after hours until dawn. The theme of the evening was ‘lingerie party.’ As my male friend noted however, like most lingerie parties, the only ones who took the lingerie part seriously were gay men and women who should in fact, never be out in public in lingerie. Ah well.
This didn’t put a damper on the evening. For an Italian clubhouse the crowd was quite eclectic with Moroccans, Jersey girls, folks decked out in S&M gear and best of all – a magician. Surveying the thinning crowd at 4 AM…
We noticed a lone Guido passed out in the restaurant corner:
To which we proclaimed, “Well, a party’s not really a party without someone passed out in a corner.” I nodded my alcohol-abused brain in silent agreement, accepting the universal truth of this statement. It later got me thinking a party’s also not really a party without:
A drum / sax player
A lost credit card, jacket or earring
A body so sticky from champagne / liquor spillage that you’ve become adhesive
Feet so sore that heels get discarded
At least one Red Hot Chili Peppers song
Waking up with mystifying bruises
That one person who falls off the Go-Go dancing platform
Throwing ice
Someone passed out in the corner
A random girl in too-tight clothes dancing on an elevated area
Those three tools wearing sunglasses at night
An acute sense that you should’ve left twenty minutes ago
A brawl
Two enraged security guards
Someone who thinks they know you constantly whispering in your ear
Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com
The downside of dating someone you go out and have fun with is that you’ll eventually have to see them drunk, at night clubs, post break-up. You’d think that because New York is ginormous, the chances of running into your ex would be slim. This could not be father from the truth. Most circles of friends frequent a rotating handful of places, the grown-up equivalent of the three neighborhood bars in college. Running into you’re ex isn’t a probability, it’s a certainty. And thanks to alcohol, all your emotions will be heightened and on edge. So ‘sadness’ becomes ‘SADNESS!’ and ‘I wasn’t that into him,’ becomes ‘We were building a LIFE together.’
So not only are you entering an inevitably awkward, emotionally uncomfortable situation, you’re doing it on dramatic steroids. How to handle such encounters? Let’s explore a few.
DBS (Devil Bitch Stare): Most women perfected this glare that resonates pure hate and loathing in middle school. Men might have to practice a half-hour in the mirror since cattiness doesn’t come as naturally. Stare with a seething that implies ‘if you contracted leprosy and your limbs fell off, I’d laugh,’ and you’ll know you’ve got the tone right. If you don’t want to have to interact with your former significant other while you’re out, DBS will do the trick. Give ‘em this gaze and they won’t come within a twenty foot radius.
Amnesia Effect: When your eyes meet awkwardly across the room, greet the ex with the blank stare of a head trauma victim. People get amnesia everyday! It could’ve happened to you! This immature solution also takes the ball out of your court. It’s now your ex’s job to figure out whether to approach you and ask what’s wrong or play along like you don’t know each other. Genius!
Jealousy Card: Grab the nearest homosapien (man, woman, waitress, security guard) and flirt with them like it’s the Special Olympics of speed dating. Gaze into their eyes, shimmy with them, dance with them, engage them in a sensual salsa. Your nerves about seeing your ex will be temporarily channeled into faux desire. He’ll roll his eyes so much he’ll risk cornea damage.
Payback: Greet him with an ‘accidental’ stiletto thrust into the foot or crotch. Give him a friendly shove from behind so his drink ends up on the girl he’s chatting up’s lap. Tell the security guard you saw him dealing drugs near the bathroom. All are equally effective on separate scales.
Spread Rumors: Engage in eye contact with the ex while chatting and whispering to someone else. The ex will sense you’re talking about him, and subsequently be curious, then enraged. When they confront you about why you’re acting ‘like a bitch’ you can deny you were ever talking about him OR fess up that you were just telling so-and-so about his Winnie the Pooh fetish. Revenge always makes your vodka tonic taste a little sweeter.
That about sums up the emotional immaturity I have to offer today. Of course there are kind and courteous ways to deal with bumping into an ex at a nightclub as well, but who wants to hear about those? This is New York. Relationship torture is our forte.
P.S. Just to keep up our theme of petty competition, anyone care to guess at which New York nightlife establishment the title photo was taken? The answer on Monday.
Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com
Spring has been an eternal excuse for people to get a little frisky; to let their guard down, let their worries down, let their pants down, etc. Folks are coupling off faster than you can count flowers and the word ‘Hamptons’ seems to penetrate every New York conversation. Many of us who spent chilly winter evenings enwrapped in a duvet cover eating ramen in front of game shows are now out every night – because there’s sun, because Happy Hours are actually ‘happy,’ because you don’t need industrial strength layers, mittens, and warm accessories to get where you need to go. All you need’s a sundress, a song and a skip.
While this all sounds fabulous, it’s a big lifestyle adjustment to trade your nightly mac’n’cheese in bed for nightly evenings at Marquee. All this joyousness can lead to a condition I like to call ‘Spring Over Kill.’ The symptoms include severe exhaustion, daily hangovers, and hormones going haywire. Since the long-awaited good weather’s irresistible, you’re incapable of taking it easy at home. You’ve shed your hermit skin and have transformed into a social butterfly that’s out 24-7. The problem is that if you overdo it partying now, you’ll be dead before summer.
So in an attempt to help cure cases of SOK (Spring Over Kill), I’ve created a reference to analyze how we’re all handling the change of seasons. Utilize the spring nightlife guide below to determine if your party fever’s OK, dangerous, or out of control to the point where you need to padlock yourself in your apartment for some R&R.
Entrance Drama
OK: You know the doorman’s name
Dangerous: You have a secret handshake
Lock Yourself Up: You bolt the club closed together before 5 A.M. breakfast
Bottle Service
OK: Just when clients are in town
Dangerous: Just when anyone’s in town
Lock Yourself Up: As long as you’re in town
After Clubbing Snacks
OK: Occasional street meat
Dangerous: The vendor knows how spicy you like your taco
Lock Yourself Up: You have an automatically renewing 4 A.M. reservation at L’Express
Dating
OK: You pick up some numbers
Dangerous: You pick up some people
Lock Yourself Up: You can’t pick up anyone you haven’t already hooked up with
Bathrooms
OK: You use the shortcut
Dangerous: You’re used to the bathroom attendant greeting you with a hug
Lock Yourself Up: You use the staff bathroom and have the access code memorized
Night Doorman
OK: He expects you home between 2 and 4 A.M.
Dangerous: He often has to carry you in
Lock Yourself Up: You get home so late he’s already off shift
Promoters
OK: You get 3 – 5 promotional texts a day
Dangerous: You reply to 3 – 5 promotional texts a day
Lock Yourself Up: You participate to the extent where people think you’re a promoter yourself
Drinking
OK: A few drinks never killed anyone
Dangerous: A few bottles never killed anyone
Lock Yourself Up: Regular blackouts never killed anyone
Shots
OK: On special occasions, fine
Dangerous: On every occasion, cheers!
Lock Yourself Up: Constantly circulating on platters, thanks!
Hangovers
OK: Sometimes my head hurts
Dangerous: Sometimes I forget how to multiply and divide
Lock Yourself Up: I don’t get hangovers thanks to my mimosa intake the next morning.
Liquor Intake
OK: Politely sipping from a champagne flute or drinking through a straw
Dangerous: Through six straws
Lock Yourself Up: Directly from bottle
Security
OK: The security guard doesn’t know me
Dangerous: The security guard knows I’m a regular
Lock Yourself Up: The security guard knows more about my life then I do
Credit Card
OK: Always in my wallet
Dangerous: Always behind a bar
Lock Yourself Up: Always missing and could be at Scores
Results
Mostly OKs: Continue to party responsibly
Dangerous: Make yourself stay in with a movie at least thee times this week
Lock Yourself Up: Put down the drink you’re holding. Detox in bed with Echinacea and green tea. No going out again until you can complete the mental equivalent of a crossword or intermediate Sudoku puzzle.
Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com
Party foul! Friday night hotspot club 1Oak’s elegant downstairs bathrooms flooded. Staffers tried to keep the mess under control as quickly as possible with wet vacs but for ladies who didn’t want their $500 shoes destroyed wading to the toilet, the one bathroom upstairs was the only source of relief. Since it was a rainy night, people weren’t leaving the club to party elsewhere, so the crowds continued to amass. And if the potty problem wasn’t big enough, later the cops and fire marshal showed up, noting the party was exaggeratedly over capacity.
The next day, I found myself outside 1Oak and saw a rowdy patron literally catapulted onto the sidewalk. He flew like a human cannon ball from one bouncer’s arms to another’s as he flailed wildly causing a ruckus and screaming something about his Amex card inside. Doorman Ben had to put his hands on the man’s shoulders and soothe his mad sputtering, “What’s your name, sir? Tell me your name, sir?” Soon the Wild One was calmed and breathing heavily like a post-tantrum child. Talk about people skills! That’s why door people in New York make a well-deserved fortune.
So despite a weekend of hullabaloo activity, yesterday’s Blackbook party at 1Oak went off without a hitch. The door was tranquil, the crowd was gorgeous, the bar was open – what more could anyone need? As we positioned ourselves on a banquet to people-watch, my friend Safari whispered, ‘this whole place feels like a London club tonight. Look at these girls! All Bohemian chic.’ And she was right. There were many vintage dresses, bangs, large bags, sunglasses and lots and lots of tights. The music jolted from Spice Girls to Madonna to 80ies classics to rock without anyone seeming to care. Spirits were bright and my only compliant is that they closed the open bar four minutes before schedule (yes, we were those cheap-ass people who were counting.)
My prediction is that after what I imagine is a fire marshal warning, 1Oak’s already Fort Knox doors are going to get even tighter. For anyone who can manage, this locale is absolutely worth checking out. Not only did they spend the equivalent of small nation’s treasury on decor, it has a swanky, fun vibe and dangerously comfortable banquettes. The black and white checkered floor lends an air of elegance; the expensive-looking wooden walls are engraved with romantic script. A fireplace crackles and luminous paintings of blank-faced children and horses span the inner room.
If Kiss & Fly and Goldbar gave birth to a very lavish hybrid space it would look something like this. Or in my words:
“If clubs could metamorphosize into men, I’d want to date 1Oak.”
Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com
Going out too much can make you feel crazy. No locale however, can compete on the crazy scale with The Box, Manhattan’s whacky version of a Freak Show, Cabaret, and Dinner Theater rolled tightly into one notoriously high-priced package. All the glittery songs, stripping, contortionists, and acts of defilement start at $2,000 minimum just to sit at a table, further bottle minimums apply after that.
Last year at this time, The Box was a-booming. Since then, the below-the-radar theater that seemed untouchable has suffered through typical New York club angst (license issues, cop raids, busts). I personally hadn’t been there since their celebrity studded scandal in August (patrons on the night of the shutdown included Cameron Diaz and Jay-Z). It took a trip to Chrystie Street this weekend to fully remember what a jungle that place really is. My initial description from last year:
The Box is different. It’s not a club. It’s a black box stage, but with very extravagant French décor; red plush leather seats, a golden balcony, heavy crimson curtains that encircle tables for privacy, and my favorite touch, Babar wallpaper. People don’t come here to dance like angry gorillas like they do at Pink Elephant. People come to sit, chill out, enjoy the ambiance, champagne and to watch the show.
The Box puts on a new show every week hosted by the infamous MC – a bleach blonde transvestite with red lips, devil horns, long nails and a spandex suit which he inevitably ends up stripping out of to reveal his intricate body art and the phrase “Made in America” tattooed across his stomach. The MC always sings, always addresses the crowd as “motherfuckas” and usually begins the night by stripping some victimized guy from the audience on stage and having topless girls spray him with champagne. This is followed by a series of variety numbers that range from strip teases, singers belting ballads, erotica and comedy sketches. Think Cabaret style: Germany, World War II. The show lasts about half an hour, there’s one at around 1 am and another around 2:30 – although there’s no set schedule.
What I learned this time around is that it’s one thing to enjoy a full evening at The Box, arriving at 12 or 1 AM, settling in, eating your popcorn, focusing on the show, talking politely amongst your table. It’s quite another to show up at 3 AM when you’re already drunk and seeing stars…because if you’re already seeing stars, once you get in The Box, you’ll be seeing comets doing the can-can. The ambiance is just that dazzling. It’s literally like taking a side trip to the circus on your way home; A foolproof way to extricate yourself from any sense of reality, which is perhaps why workaholic New Yorkers love it so. Cause sure, we’re in Manhattan, but for some reason swirling around The Box late night you feel like you could be anywhere, any time zone, any country. Most conversations you have with people don’t even make sense.
Example:
Person 1: Popcorn.
Person 2: John’s gotta get on stage. We’re getting John on stage.
Person 3: Is that a girl or a guy?
Person 1: I dunno. I think they have a tail.
Person 2: Popcorn?
Person 3: Wait, a tail in the back or the front?
Person 2: Are they really twins?
Person 1: (mouth full) This popcorn feels like ale.
Person 2: Taste. You mean, tastes.
Person 3: What do you think it’s like to get whipped like that every night?
Person 2: Ashley does have John pretty whipped.
Person 1: Holly shit, is John on stage?
Person 3: No, that’s just someone who looks like John wearing a hazmat suit.
Person 2: Oh.
Person 1: Where did you say you were from again?
fade out
And the later you go, the more risqué the show. Around the time sex toys are in every act and you’re thinking, ‘wow, I never knew a rubber ducky could be used for that,’ you know it’s time to leave. Luckily, my girlfriend yanked me out of there just before the lights came up. Thank goodness, because these atrocities, while deliriously fabulous at night are definitely frightening by day.
Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com
