[Line pass]

Things that make us go ‘eww’

’Scuse me while I bitch a little

Unless you’re Kanye and P-Diddy, no shades are required in the club.
Photo: Eric Butler

Eye-rolling and nose-wrinkling in displeasure are common among Team Hangover. Through our frequent nightclub excursions, we’re struck by reoccurrences of the things that make us recoil in horror. If you’re looking to avoid scrutiny from industry folks and potential hook-ups, here’s just the tip of the iceberg …

• We never expect all clubgoers to drop wads of cash on designer dresses or ridiculously expensive tees. Nor do we think you need a new outfit for every night of the week. We’ve even forgiven gentlemen for striped shirts—that’s been replaced by our dislike of too much Affliction and Audigier. In fact, some clubs have banned these duds (obviously, Christian Audigier The Nightclub is not one of them). You’d be surprised how far a nicely tailored suit can get you with the ladies and keep you from being branded an insta-douche. Just stop drowning yourself in cologne. And as Weekly nightlife writer Jack Colton always says, do not wear sunglasses to a nightclub, no matter what you see on MTV. You will look stupid.

• One female faux pas that never fails to make us blanch is the clear bra-strap. Nothing ruins a gorgeous, backless dress or a sexy corset like light-reflective plastic straps. Ladies: “Clear” does not mean “invisible.” The real secret Victoria should have leaked is the multitude of strapless and backless options for keeping the girls in place. And if a women is top-heavy and requires a traditional over-the-shoulder boulder-holder, perhaps it’s time to reconsider the dress to look your best. In addition, we cannot recall anyone looking good in a spandex Kelly Bundy-style frock, whether she be a Twiggy doppelganger or possess luscious curves. On a personal note, please stop wearing “airplane skirts” (your hemline is so high, I can see your cockpit.)

• On the etiquette front, we’ve noticed guys (those usually wearing sunglasses) trying to grind with go-go dancers. Gentlemen, she’s just not that into you, but it’s her job to pretend she is. She isn’t a stripper and won’t give you a lap dance, so maybe throw a couple of bucks her way—then move on. Your chances are better with the drunk tourist looking for her big “What happens in Vegas …” experience. Speaking of lovely ladies who work in clubs, even though the cocktail waitress’ uniform is barely there and displaying her natural (or purchased) assets, her eyes are a little bit higher. Try to look at them when ordering your next round of Jäger shots.

• Women usually travel to the club restroom in packs, often to get away from the guy ogling the aforementioned female staff members. However, despite club signage, ladies are sometimes seen coming out of the same stall. We automatically assume you were up to something naughty, and not in a hot Skin-amax kind of way, but more like a “snow-blowing” or “hey, girlfriend, could you hold my hair?” kind of way. If that’s your agenda, it’s probably time to leave anyway. But while you’re stumbling out of the club, be sure to leave on your stilettos. Or, pack a change of flip-flops in your oversized handbag; think of all the disgustingness you could step in or on while walking barefoot to your final destination. Besides, security is going to make you put your shoes back on anyway.

• A few words about beverages and photos ... How horrifying! To finish a cocktail in one swig, only to discover someone’s extinguished cigarette in your glass. If it’s too difficult to find an ashtray, just locate some unoccupied floor space and nonchalantly snuff it out with your shoe … or burn a hole in the polyester shirt of the dude bugging the go-go dancer. Yes, him. He’s also the one making lewd gestures in club photos demonstrating what he would do to someone’s lady-parts if he ever got near them. Tacky doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Sure, there are many more infractions, but this is just a starter kit meant to entertain while raising your nightlife respectability. After all, you never know if the gal texting in the corner is actually taking notes for her future reference …

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Deanna Rilling

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