My F1 weekend game plan, initially, was to ignore the whole F1 shebang, but that’s sort of like not hearing those vuvuzelas during the recent World Cup or see someone playing Angry Birds on the iPhone. It’s constantly there, and always annoying.
“If you can’t beat them, join ‘em,” goes the popular adage. I managed to get myself on the list of Amber Lounge and Podium Lounge as well as a whole bunch of other “exclusive” shindigs around town, and every joint worth its velvet ropes was doing something fabulous each and every night. Although I tried to make a cameo at all the above, trying to look fabulous after an evening at the races was just hard work—although that little black jacket of mine came in quite handy, I must say.
I couldn’t really figure out how Richard did it (Richard Branson, that Virgin guy—yes, we’re on a first name basis now). The guy was seen almost everywhere during F1 weekend and he still looked like a billion bucks; chatting up The Chemical Bros at Avalon GO!, living it up at Amber Lounge (I was skulking in the corner trying to get a good shot but to no avail) as well as a couple of other places. I, on the other hand, looked more like some beat up hipster by the third do of the night than the cool dapper dude I was when I left home. Maybe Richard brought along some new Virgin Teleporter gadget to beat the ridiculous F1 traffic. Same story at the Sands. Alright, so we know that the Avalon crew wanted to create the whole luxury Avalon experience but it’s an effin RAVE party so what’s up with the different VIP areas? I couldn’t walk 50 paces without being stopped by some snarly looking dude looking at hand stamps. Thank God for media passes.
Ku Dé Ta on Saturday was no different either. First, you had to blow 300 big ones to get in (Thank you V for the guest-list hook up!). Secondly, Derrick May was on that night; the techno legend from Detroit. So what if the rooftop bar is the hottest place to be right now? I don’t think it’s the place for techno; maybe house or disco would be better. Although the music was rocking (classic Detroit techno with a few new joints thrown in), techno, in my opinion, belongs in some deep, dark and grungy club, not some swanky rooftop bar filled with a herd of hipsters, debutantes and bally-hoos. Nah, 150BPMs and Manolos don’t mix.
So I clicked my ruby brogues together and repeated “there’s no place like home” three times and whisked off to my home away from home, Zouk, where my posse and I were instantly among friends and Tiga played a great set to an up-for-it crowd. Goes to show that all you need is some great tunes, a cool and inviting space and an easy crowd to make a great party work. No gimmicks here, just plain ol’ good stuff.