I always steer away from political fundraisers and events, unless there’s an open bar involved, then I steer toward the Svedka. When art is also involved, I don’t even have to feel guilty. That’s why I’d been excited for weeks to attend Truth Through Action’s first party and short film screening at Mansion.
In a nutshell, this organization makes innovative and in the case of their first film, highly comedic, viral videos encouraging young people to vote and support the Democratic Party. I strongly encourage watching their first movie Blue Balled here. Aside from the film screening, partiers enjoyed a photo exhibit called Political Monogamy by Reka Nyari and a musical performance by Shanna Zell (a tune of hers is also featured in the movie.) It’s always refreshing to feel like you’re taking in a little culture with your alcohol consumption, just because it garners the illusion that clubs don’t necessarily have to be a sinful place.
I Only Sleep With Democrats wife-beaters were for sale and the open bar drinks were appropriately named after political figures like George Bush, Hillary Clinton and John McCain. I stuck with Ross Perot. What can I say? He tasted the best.
And speaking of taste, to my heavy-drinking readers, there’s a new beverage on my delicious list. Truth Through Action included TK KU, an Asian citrus liquor, as part of their open bar.
I don’t know if it’s technically a liqueur or a super smooth version of sake. These details are irrelevant since all you need to know is that for 40 proof, this stuff tastes like heaven. I drank it straight, on ice, at 9pm. Enough said. Making the drink even more entertaining is that it’s presented in, according to their card, The World’s Only Illuminating Bottle. Wow. It was like a light saber and a Grey Goose container rolled into one. And I didn’t let the fact that whatever makes the liquor bottle shine will most likely be pinpointed as a cancer-causer ten years from now bother me at all.
Illuminating liquor, art and indie film all in support of a good cause? What better evening-out launch party could anybody want?
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
Think New York and Vegas are hardcore? They are. But nothing can truly parallel Brazil, the culture that gave us Carnival, the caipirinha, and I’m pretty sure the concept of ‘the one night stand.’ Since the weather’s always fabulous and Brazilians are suckers for oceans, lakes, and sunrises, parties are outdoors, last till noon the next day and HUGE – we’re talking about flown in porta potties, massive outdoor tents that make your average celebrity wedding reception look lame, and multiple open bars. Because if you’re not going head-over-heels all out, you might as well stay in and make passionate Brazilian-style love.
My trip originated in Sao Paulo. Then we drove five hours in a bullet proof car to a famed Easter weekend party destination called Escarpas dos Lagos. The Escarpas lakes are outside an area of Brazil called Ribeirao Preto, which my friends described as some of the most expensive agricultural land in the world – valued at a higher price than the most fertile tobacco fields in the US. The main product is of course sugarcane i.e. ethanol, and of course you have some of the wealthiest families with ranches the size of Rhode Island near impoverished towns filled with underpaid workers who can’t even afford shoes. The parties took place inside a gated condominium where most houses had their own helipads. Before even departing from the USA, my friends had been incessantly hyping up Friday’s ‘Marina Party’ or ‘Na Sala,’ apparently the pinnacle event in this Easter weekend of non-stop debauchery.
Their excitement proved to be legit. After a SWAT team checked our tickets, bracelets and frisked us (Brazil’s big on security), we entered the equivalent of an adult party Disney World. This pre-party entrance area had Go-Go dancers above a glowing pool, bubbles galore, a massive Giudo-esque angel serenely overlooking the scene, and a Johnny Walker promotional motorboat filled with cowboys that encircled the party at all times.
And here in New York we think disco balls are elaborate…
Upon closer examination of our angel friend, I became 100% convinced that he was in fact from New Jersey. Despite my immature attempts to seduce him into coming down to talk to me, I still have no way to concretely prove this.
There were also men in silver spandex suits with the equivalent of Christmas lights wrapped around them stealthily slithering through the party. I think these creep-shows represented some unheard of Brazilian vodka brand. Sadly, their reflective suits where so glossy that flash photos of them didn’t really come out: and a huge opportunity for comedy missed. I leave you to imagine. Keep in mind; this was just the promotional fun land at the first bar. Then you entered the actual party:
I’m a newfound fan of these trippy, neon green lights, which lose their full effect in New York since our clubs are essentially tiny, underground hovels. At these house music raves, the lights can extend for hundreds of meters. At one house party, the host even had projections of green frogs dancing on the cliffs across the lake from his house (insane, yet entertaining.) Our Brazilian friends somehow negotiated our entrance into the VIP at the very back end of the tent closest to the water, where you could literally survey the entire crowd from above and feel like the neon vortex was swirling directly AT you.
Other interesting cultural phenomena of note:
-Grape juice and vodka! Brazilians in Escarpas love their grape juice. This was a mixer more common than cranberry or orange. Detrimental if you’re wearing white.
-You know how house music freaks in the US like to dance pumping their fist in the air? In Brazil, you nix the fist and pump your hand in the air while performing a wrist flick. It’s sort of a ‘come here’ movement…I’m assuming to evoke the party spirits/Gods.
-DJs dance! Maybe I’m going to the wrong places, but in New York it seems like the DJs are locked away in some dim booth, always with their head down, studiously flipping through binders of music with a puzzled look on their face, occasionally stopping to survey the crowd and take a swig out of a Poland Springs water bottle. They make standardized testing look more fun. Instead in Brazil, the DJ was the powerhouse epicenter of the party’s universe. I couldn’t even understand how he was spinning since he appeared to be always conducting the crowd like it was his own massive orchestra, flailing his hands, shaking his fingers and thrusting his head. I was the furthest away from the stand and could feel the DJs electric energy from his God-like booth on the opposite end of the tent. Talk about being dynamic!
Partying till long after sunrise is standard in Brazil, so you have the opportunity to play tourist drunk at seven in the morning and get photo ops like these.
Here’s a video I took trying to capture both dawn over the mountains and the rave below. Enjoy!
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
