* Note: This is the second part to a previous post: An Every Girl's Guide To Clubbing
All right, so you know how to breeze in, air kiss the bouncers on the cheek as you do, waltz on over to the promoter spot, air kiss the promoters on the cheek as you do, and claim prime territory dancing like the queen you are on the booth. What else is there? Oh, darlings, so much. So much more.
- Don't shit where you eat.
If you take one thing away from this article, let it be this: do not, I repeat do NOT shit where you eat. Oh, how I wish I had some one tell me this when I started going out lots and subsequently started promoting. That club owner who's been giving you attention via free drinks and his arm wrapped around you? Not your soul mate. That handsome baller who comes every Friday night and has been lavishing you with bottles of Dom P as of late? Also not your soul mate. The cute one in that group of party dudes who are always there on Thursdays and hold down the corner booth? Nope. Not your soul mate. If you're the kind of girl who can have fun and not get attached, then by all means, dive in head first. But if you're like 99% of us girls out there (human and prone to getting hurt) you will regret anything you start up in the club romance department. It'll be whirlwind. Glamorous. Sexy. Then crash and burn faster than you can say pass the Goose. Leaving you where? That broken-hearted girl who has to see her ex-whatever at a club every week using all the same moves he used on you...on new girls. I've been there...several times. Heck, I'm there right now! Drunken hook ups are inevitable; but save anything that actually involves your heart for outside of loud beats, dark lights and endless shots. Seriously. My next boyfriend is NOT going to know what the price of a magnum is or the name of any after hours spot in this city.
- Dress as you would daytime.
Spandex shorts. Lace-up corset tops. Bodysuits...with no bottoms. I've pretty much seen it all when it comes to atrocious club attire. Ladies, there's a simple rule when it comes to dressing like not a whore. Don't wear anything you wouldn't be caught dead in daytime. As in, if you wouldn't wear it walking down the street daytime, we all don't wanna see it shaking out and about after the sun goes down. Seriously, you say? Of course this doesn't include foot wear (My Kirkwoods are meant for glitzy nights out only) and make-up (smokey eyes daytime? Raccoon. Night time? Sexpot.) but otherwise, the rule stands. Obviously that full-sequined long sleeved Matthew Williams mini would look ridiculous if you strutted down Bloor on a warm summer day, but the point is it wouldn't look indecent. Fashionistas, we welcome with open arms. T and A...men welcome with open pants. Also, keeping with this rule ensures you won't have to spend hours untagging or deleting Instagram pictures in the near future when you realize that junk does not look flattering when exposed in the trunk.
- Straps are your best friend.
I'm talking straps on heels, dresses, tanks, and purses. Straps are the savior of the drunk fashionista for obvious reasons. Perhaps you're a mild drinker who goes out to bop around to the beat a little and mingle here and there. Or perhaps you're a vodka-swilling party girl who gets rip-roaring wasted every night her Louboutins hit the pavement. Oh, save your blushed cheeks and pride, chances are you're the second. There there, most of us are...you're only twenty-something once after all. That being said, I have lost many a clutch on a drunken evening out since with no straps to stay on, I absentmindedly leave the damn thing who knows where. And an unattended designer purse lasts about two seconds when carelessly strewn aside at a crowded venue. Save yourself the tears the next day and invest in not just the Balenciaga clutch but the one with a removable strap as well. Straps on heels help with tipsy, teetering walks to and from the bathroom, and straps on dresses prevent peekaboo bra situations...or worse yet nip slips. Strap em down ladies, and feel better about knowing that you'll survive the night unscathed and purse in hand.
- Nothing good comes after 2 a.m.
Okay...that's not true. Everything good comes after 2 a.m....but only in terms of short term gratification. You know it won't end well, but the middle part is sure as hell going to be fun. That's my mentality after 2 a.m. and my non-sober reasoning is usually to just do it and deal with any disastrous conclusions the next morning. Well, after countless after parties, both good, bad, scandalous, more scandalous, and just plain evil, I can tell you that all shenanigans after 2 a.m. are pointless. I've become a lot more restrained than I used to be and it has been entirely to my benefit. Short term gratification is satisfying, but long term maturity is progress. Taking a moment to reason with your drunk self right before getting into that dude's car to go to some AP where you know like, one person, and getting into a cab home instead will make your sober self the next day pat you on the back. Sure, we all need a rager now and then and that trek home when the sun is already up, but don't make it a weekly thing. The vampire/zombie look only works in the movies.
- Stay calm & party on.
When I'm wasted and in a mood, there is no telling me what to do. My good friend Jasmine has likened me to an angry cat in a bag when I've been upset and wasted...there's no escaping my warpath should I be set on one. However, my recent debauchery when under the influence has led to possibly the most miserable two weeks of my life. So that being said, if you're depressed about something or the other, drowning your sorrows in diluted vodka crans and cheap interactions is probably not the best way to go. Depressed drinking ends in one of three ways 1) tears 2) regretful hookups 3) a combo of the two. Should you decide to chug your way to feigned happiness anyway, at least bring along a friend you trust to make sure you don't go bat shit ballistic in the worst way. Or in my case, angry cat in a bag crazy. Side note: in light of recent events, Jasmine now has permission to slap, and/or sedate me with force should I get ferocious feline on her while we're out...the EpiPen solution to drunk Kins. Necessary.
And there you have it lovelies, A Girl's (more in-depth) Guide To Clubbing! Keep in mind these are merely rules I've set for myself after an endless stream of ups and downs experienced by yours truly in my vast number of nights out. So have your strapless, emotionally unstable, true-love-in-this-club, out until 6 a.m. madness as much as you can handle...then create your own guidelines. Club Goddess I may not be, but I'm sure as hell the Queen of learning from my mistakes. Until next time ladies...I'll be seeing you all out and about. x
All right, so you know how to breeze in, air kiss the bouncers on the cheek as you do, waltz on over to the promoter spot, air kiss the promoters on the cheek as you do, and claim prime territory dancing like the queen you are on the booth. What else is there? Oh, darlings, so much. So much more.
- Don't shit where you eat.
If you take one thing away from this article, let it be this: do not, I repeat do NOT shit where you eat. Oh, how I wish I had some one tell me this when I started going out lots and subsequently started promoting. That club owner who's been giving you attention via free drinks and his arm wrapped around you? Not your soul mate. That handsome baller who comes every Friday night and has been lavishing you with bottles of Dom P as of late? Also not your soul mate. The cute one in that group of party dudes who are always there on Thursdays and hold down the corner booth? Nope. Not your soul mate. If you're the kind of girl who can have fun and not get attached, then by all means, dive in head first. But if you're like 99% of us girls out there (human and prone to getting hurt) you will regret anything you start up in the club romance department. It'll be whirlwind. Glamorous. Sexy. Then crash and burn faster than you can say pass the Goose. Leaving you where? That broken-hearted girl who has to see her ex-whatever at a club every week using all the same moves he used on you...on new girls. I've been there...several times. Heck, I'm there right now! Drunken hook ups are inevitable; but save anything that actually involves your heart for outside of loud beats, dark lights and endless shots. Seriously. My next boyfriend is NOT going to know what the price of a magnum is or the name of any after hours spot in this city.
- Dress as you would daytime.
Spandex shorts. Lace-up corset tops. Bodysuits...with no bottoms. I've pretty much seen it all when it comes to atrocious club attire. Ladies, there's a simple rule when it comes to dressing like not a whore. Don't wear anything you wouldn't be caught dead in daytime. As in, if you wouldn't wear it walking down the street daytime, we all don't wanna see it shaking out and about after the sun goes down. Seriously, you say? Of course this doesn't include foot wear (My Kirkwoods are meant for glitzy nights out only) and make-up (smokey eyes daytime? Raccoon. Night time? Sexpot.) but otherwise, the rule stands. Obviously that full-sequined long sleeved Matthew Williams mini would look ridiculous if you strutted down Bloor on a warm summer day, but the point is it wouldn't look indecent. Fashionistas, we welcome with open arms. T and A...men welcome with open pants. Also, keeping with this rule ensures you won't have to spend hours untagging or deleting Instagram pictures in the near future when you realize that junk does not look flattering when exposed in the trunk.
- Straps are your best friend.
I'm talking straps on heels, dresses, tanks, and purses. Straps are the savior of the drunk fashionista for obvious reasons. Perhaps you're a mild drinker who goes out to bop around to the beat a little and mingle here and there. Or perhaps you're a vodka-swilling party girl who gets rip-roaring wasted every night her Louboutins hit the pavement. Oh, save your blushed cheeks and pride, chances are you're the second. There there, most of us are...you're only twenty-something once after all. That being said, I have lost many a clutch on a drunken evening out since with no straps to stay on, I absentmindedly leave the damn thing who knows where. And an unattended designer purse lasts about two seconds when carelessly strewn aside at a crowded venue. Save yourself the tears the next day and invest in not just the Balenciaga clutch but the one with a removable strap as well. Straps on heels help with tipsy, teetering walks to and from the bathroom, and straps on dresses prevent peekaboo bra situations...or worse yet nip slips. Strap em down ladies, and feel better about knowing that you'll survive the night unscathed and purse in hand.
- Nothing good comes after 2 a.m.
Okay...that's not true. Everything good comes after 2 a.m....but only in terms of short term gratification. You know it won't end well, but the middle part is sure as hell going to be fun. That's my mentality after 2 a.m. and my non-sober reasoning is usually to just do it and deal with any disastrous conclusions the next morning. Well, after countless after parties, both good, bad, scandalous, more scandalous, and just plain evil, I can tell you that all shenanigans after 2 a.m. are pointless. I've become a lot more restrained than I used to be and it has been entirely to my benefit. Short term gratification is satisfying, but long term maturity is progress. Taking a moment to reason with your drunk self right before getting into that dude's car to go to some AP where you know like, one person, and getting into a cab home instead will make your sober self the next day pat you on the back. Sure, we all need a rager now and then and that trek home when the sun is already up, but don't make it a weekly thing. The vampire/zombie look only works in the movies.
- Stay calm & party on.
When I'm wasted and in a mood, there is no telling me what to do. My good friend Jasmine has likened me to an angry cat in a bag when I've been upset and wasted...there's no escaping my warpath should I be set on one. However, my recent debauchery when under the influence has led to possibly the most miserable two weeks of my life. So that being said, if you're depressed about something or the other, drowning your sorrows in diluted vodka crans and cheap interactions is probably not the best way to go. Depressed drinking ends in one of three ways 1) tears 2) regretful hookups 3) a combo of the two. Should you decide to chug your way to feigned happiness anyway, at least bring along a friend you trust to make sure you don't go bat shit ballistic in the worst way. Or in my case, angry cat in a bag crazy. Side note: in light of recent events, Jasmine now has permission to slap, and/or sedate me with force should I get ferocious feline on her while we're out...the EpiPen solution to drunk Kins. Necessary.
And there you have it lovelies, A Girl's (more in-depth) Guide To Clubbing! Keep in mind these are merely rules I've set for myself after an endless stream of ups and downs experienced by yours truly in my vast number of nights out. So have your strapless, emotionally unstable, true-love-in-this-club, out until 6 a.m. madness as much as you can handle...then create your own guidelines. Club Goddess I may not be, but I'm sure as hell the Queen of learning from my mistakes. Until next time ladies...I'll be seeing you all out and about. x
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