Saturday, January 5, 11:50 p.m.
It’s not a big-box club with thousands of people,” managing director Frank Tucker explained when I toured Privé just weeks prior to the club’s New Year’s weekend opening. This is not to be confused with the venue’s grand opening, which I am told will be held “at the end of the month,” though that could easily be code for early February. Managing partner Justin Levine is known for using diversion and subterfuge to spring unpublicized parties on the salivating, club-hungry public, for putting celebs (Amanda Lepore, Pauly Shore ...) to work at the doors, and for not being above sending a six-foot drag queen into the fray to, you know, mix things up a bit.
I fully admit to feeling a special kinship to this project; I’ve followed its progress from the vaguest of rumors distilled from whispers, through two exclusive hard-hat tours and up to this moment where I’m sitting on the back of a VIP booth, cocktail in hand, just as Levine said I could. In addition to every flat surface being danceable (“It’s part of the energy. Who sits on a couch in a nightclub?!”), he promised me a club without ropes and so it is. Well, once inside, of course!
The door tonight was a familiar scene, familiar if you saw the movie 54. And maybe 300. At first, the throng gathered at the bottom of the Privé escalator appears to be an undulating, disorganized gathering of egos, the last layers of which are audibly airing their grievances. But dig in a little and you find that it’s all part of the master plan, with Levine himself right there alongside Tucker and co-managing director Greg Jarmolowich, separating the wheat from the chaff. And the old rules went out the window long ago; Levine likes his clientele fashionable in a Heatherette sort of way as opposed to a Brooks Brothers sort of way. Sorry, Charlie—no Payless footwear need apply.
The new club and lounge duo at Planet Hollywood—the first of five brands Miami’s Opium Group intends to install in Sin City—is said to be about 80 percent done, with designer François Frossard stopping by as recent as earlier this week to continue decking out the place. I know more is coming: The fireplaces aren’t going, the denim-upholstered patio is incomplete, and the custom-made, limited edition retail items (by Crooks & Castles and Undefeated and more) have yet to grace the tall, narrow display widows.
But that’s not stopping anyone from taking advantage of the club’s three gently staged levels and the relative ease with which one can complete a full circuit of the club’s VIP tables without encountering a single velvet-roped dead end or flashlight-wielding thug. I take a quick glance around while my girlfriends guffaw at the ensuing implant giveaway contest in which Dr. Manus of TV’s Dr. 90210 sifts through an agonizingly long lineup of flat-chested hopefuls. “No. 19, No. 27, No. 58, No. 99 ...” Yeah, I have time.
There’s something of a hot mess dancing her blond extensions off on a go-go box, but no one pays her any attention. Despite having a rack that runneth over, she will soon join the ladies onstage and free up the speaker box for a go-go dancer who knows what she’s doing. Behind me, kung fu and Godzilla flicks spliced with porn are projected in 360-DPI clarity on the specially coated 19-by-40-foot wall. Smoke machines blast off every 60 seconds creating a permanent fog over Dr. Manus’ table and leading to many funny scenarios like illegal ass-grabs, mock death scenes and the accidental boob graze.
DJ Kevin Scott spins us a hip-hop-heavy mix peppered with just enough house, rock and ’80s to satisfy. But like we used to say about upstate New York weather, if you don’t like the music, just wait five minutes. According to a rep, Levine doesn’t like to rely heavily on resident DJs, opting instead to book fresh talent as often as possible. This is good news for DJs hoping for a chance to work one of two massive DJ booths set out for them. Even actress Bijou Phillips will take a spin this weekend! Combining his fiercely independent ways with the Vegas culture just a tad—rarely a bad idea—Levine has booked DJs Karma and Toma as residents.
It’s not till 2:30 a.m. that I finally go off in search of a steady house beat; I do not stick around as planned to meet the winner of the implants. Let the tits fall where they may.
Xania Woodman thinks globally and parties locally. And frequently. E-mail her at [email protected] and visit thecircuitlv.com to sign up for Xania’s free weekly newsletter.