Spurred on by just too much coverage of Fabian Basabe in the past few days, The Offender remembers back when V.I.P. entrance wasn't just a test of one's willingness to throw back $200 on a bottle of Absolut. It used to be that the V.I.P. was a place to meet amazing, interesting people. Artists, writers, musicians, drag queens and, well, drug dealers. But increasingly the nightlife industry seems to increasingly court "people with money that have nothing to say".
Who is to blame? A new generation raised on Jules Asner's "Wild On ..." thinks it is 'wild' to drink and spend money, and, if you are just cuh-razee, you might jump on a table and dance. Maybe they haven't been exposed to Miss Understood dripping wax on a drunken wall-streeter or go-go dancers that actually go at it.
And now they apparently never will. Bars open and close frequently, mostly because there is nothing compelling happening within their doors. And with the numerous clubs trying to attract the same insipid crowd on a weekly basis, nothing probably ever will. Bring back drama, glamor, and fun. That's how to pack the house. (When does Michael Alig get out of jail?)
Don't get me wrong. The Offender can still charm his way around most velvets, but why do it if behind the curtain there are no wizards, just little machines with bright shiny lights?