The promoter

Ever noticed that one loud, abnoxious, and hella annoying guy hanging around the front of your latest choice in venue, wearing a lanyard which he seems to think crowns him as the Dalai Lama of skulling drinks and dancing half naked? If you’ve heard the words “use my list bebe” then you have just encountered ‘the promoter’, otherwise known as the club slut.

Habitat: Not long after the turn of puberty, the promoter undergoes a certain right of passage. The mystical tradition passed down from generations of peroxide blonde, spikey haired, jerky jerk promoters involves the newcomer selecting a venue which, for the next ten years or so, will be their home. After a training period which involves such necessary life lessons as ‘How to hand out free drink cards’ and ‘Acting like you’re famous when you’re really not’, the promoter is ready to graduate and become as permanent as the cum stains on the bathroom tiles at their chosen venue.

No matter who the promoter, the choices in habitat are highly predictable. Anywhere that tries to cram ten times the safe limit of bodies into their small sweat box of a venue is the ideal breeding ground for the promoter. This clubbing clique uses overcrowded clubs to compensate for their shoe size.

The promoter’s top 3 nightclubs:

- Room 680, Hawthorn VIC

- Orange Whip, Ringwood VIC

- Dakota, Ringwood VIC

Physical attributes:
The promoter sees him or herself as the example which each and every patron should follow and is known for trying to create his or her own race. Paper white blonde hair and orange tanned skin is the example which they demand be followed by their minions. Third Reich, anyone?

The promoter’s top 3 trends:

- White hair which gives your granny a run for her pennies- think white blonde, but then go one step whiter. The aim of the game is to kill that hair, kill it baby!

- An orange glow which looks like there’s some kind of skin disease at play- getting caught in the rain after jumping off a suburban train line is just one of the many triumphs that the promoter faces in order to declare their dedication to the club they are promoting. Orange skin with white polka rain dots ensue.

- Lanyards- bright, neon coloured lanyards with the said club’s name swing carelessly around the promoter’s neck. “What this? Oh it’s jus coz I’M A PROMOTER!”.

Their goal:
The promoter’s goal is to ‘promote’ the club. As they gain the smallest percentage of takings from the club according to how many “friends” they get through the door, the promoter takes their lame excuse for a job very, very seriously. Schmoozing with newcomers and attempting to create an air of exclusivity (even though we all paid $10 to get inside) is all in a night’s work.

How to fit in with the promoter:
Use their list at the front door 4 cHEaPA eNtrY

How to avoid the promoter:
Repelling the promoter is an extremely difficult task. Their life long goal of earning big bucks from dancing around half naked with free drink cards in their cleavage is a dream which is surprisingly hard to quash. If you want to avoid the promoter I would suggest heading to a bar instead.

The promoter’s drink of choice:
“FrEeEE dRinKs!!!! CoZ tHeY lOve Me!!!!!!”

Sophie Lane

How to please the workaholic

If you’ve accidentally managed to take home a workaholic after having one too many at your local, keep calm and remain focused.

The key to giving them the ultimate pleasure lies in one-handed activities.

Sophie Lane.

The workaholic

While spending the night at home in front of a spreadsheet is obviously the workaholic’s definition of winding down after a hard day at the office, once every not so often, the push and shove from fellow work colleagues will force the workaholic to experience a little less spreadsheet and a little more spread-legs in the alluring nightlife of their own CBD.

Habitat:
It’s no surprise that the workaholic will only let loose within a 10km radius of the office building. You never know when that report needs another proof read, right? Partying in familiar surrounds can often allow the workaholic to feel that their binge drinking is all part of a hard day’s night. A little self convincing goes a long way, as “I’m going to head back to the office any moment” soon turns into “Iyam gooywang tey heayad back to the awwfice any mawment, SHOTS!”.

For the workaholic it’s all about restricting clubbing to the CBD- a central business district turned cenral bonking district.

The workaholic’s top 3 clubs:

• Crown Casino, Melbourne
• Blue Diamond, Melbourne CBD
• Transport Hotel and Cocktail Lounge, Melbourne

Physical attributes:

Having come straight from work to play, the workaholic adornes their least favourite stark black suite (it’s the end of the week and they’ve already worked their way through those charming Peter Jackson numbers). Hair slicked with the sterness of cement is also a dead give away for both workaholic sexes.

The workaholic’s top 3 trends:

• Ever noticed women looking all business from head to ankle, to only adorn clunky nike runners to and from work? These poor workaholic souls seem to apply their favourite footwear rule to clubbing as well. Ridiculous runner meets cheap suit ensues.
• Untucked shirts- once the workaholic pulls that crisp white shirt out from their underwear you really know it’s all about getting loose.
• Pens- yes pens. In their hair, sticking out of their top pocket, or even sitting smugly between their bony overworked fingers. The workaholic likes to feel well prepared for when some strategy planning might pop up throughout the evening. Don’t forget the ink stains in and around their mouths. Saucy.

Their goal:
The workaholic’s aim is to prove to the rest of the office that they can indeed source pleasure from places other than their boss’s arse. Unfortunately an intolerance for alcohol often means that ‘a few drinks to prove a point’ often turns into a night of worn off lipstick, ripped suits, and an increase in the workaholic’s sex partner count. An increase in the bell curve!

How to fit in with the workaholic:
Ask them for a business card. Theirs something about the exchange of a piece of cardboard that really seems to set a friendship in stone for the workaholic.

How to avoid the workaholic:
To repel the workaholic simply state your relation to the CEO of the company they work for. The closer in relation, the better. The possibility of news of their toilet vomit tantrum getting back to the big man will make this working chimp run right back to their swivel chair.

The workaholic’s drink of choice:
Red wine- even out of the workplace this clique likes to be taken seriously. With a chorus like “red, red wiiii-ine, stay close to me-e”, you can be sure their performance target will be met each and every time.

Sophie Lane

How to spot the underage

Ever noticed the bizarre attraction to being photographed with alcoholic beverages for ‘the underage’?

Posing with a bottle of something only your mother could buy seems to have become the latest signifier for anyone under the age of eighteen.

If you’re ever unsure whether or not you’re chatting to someone who’s still chorusing “Good morning Mr. Teacher” every Monday morning, look no further than their mobile phone or digital camera. If the last five photos contain nothing more in frame than a drunken smile and a well positioned liquor bottle, head for the green exit sign. Stat.

Sophie Lane

The underage

At 5 the shiny plastic card sitting smugly in your older siblings wallet is the key to the universe.

At 17 it’s your ticket to the clubbing world. A plastic passport for booze found in places other than your parent’s alcohol cabinet. Precisely what’s needed to demolish the restraints of that blasted chastity belt.

Welcome to the underage, a clubbing clique on steroids. This kid in the candyshop just started wearing a bra and ironically knows no restraint. Think of Veruka Salt in ten years time. Alcohol, sex and rock and roll. “I want it now!”.

Habitat:
The underage’s recent progression from playground to nightlife makes this stereotype drawn to the youthful skankiness of clubs, over the more acquired taste of bars and pubs. Any venue which requires the use of a card stating age and address is good enough for the underage. These ankle biters know no class.

The underage’s top 3 clubs:

• The Pool Room
• Dakota
• Room 680

Physical attributes:
School by day, skank by night. All of those after school detentions for wearing make-up in the school yard are finally made worth their while. The underage struts a face looking a whole lot less human, and a whole lot more cake. Baggy school uniforms and blazers make the underage susceptible to looking a lot like a stripper when given the freedom of clothing choice.

• Bare midriffs (forget the fact that this trend belongs in the nineties. Anything good enough for Barbie is good enough for the underage)
• See through-tops (“If he can’t see my tits, what’s tha point?”)
• Sky high heels (Not being able to walk properley in said heels is all a part of the attraction)

Their goal:
The underage’s goal is to hook up with as many members of the opposite (or same) sex within the allocated time slot of 9pm-1am and be back in the confines of their Thomas the Tank Engine bedroom 5 minutes before curfew.

How to fit in with the underage:
Buy them a drink. Even though the bar is only a few metres away from their blessed, naiive soles, the act of receiving alcohol from another person will send the underage into a state of affectionate shock. 50 Myspace style photos will surely ensue.

How to avoid the underage:
Stay well away from bright coloured drinks, glow sticks and dark, dingey corners. These are all reminiscent of the county fair for the underage, and act as a breeding ground for youth.

The underage’s drink of choice:
Champagne and raspberry. To the underage, the most adult drink to order on the menu is the bussy’s cheapest bottle of champagne. Meanwhile, the raspberry acts as a reminder for the whipper snapper that red cordial awaits their brace faced mouths at home.

Sophie Lane

How to survive a cougar attack

So you’ve read up on this week’s clique: the cougar, and now you’re ready to take on a clubbing scene full of middle aged MILFs.

Or are you?

Sophie Lane

The cougar

Who ever said native felines were declining in population? The cougar has hit an all time demographic growth high, with women in their 40′s and 50′s dominating the night life scene world wide. In order to understand the odd unity of well hidden cellulite met with boys barely legal, let’s delve beneath the push up bra and find out a little more about this age-less man eater.

Habitat: Cougars treat territory with a male dominant mentality, and I’m sure if urinating on public places didn’t mean being kicked out, the cougar would be the first to demonstrate territorial rights in bars and nightclubs nationwide. And for those cougars who are a little on the kinky side, I’m sure this territorial demonstration could present as kinky fun in the bedroom with their 20-something play toy. According to a recent study, you’re most likely to meet a cougar in St Kilda, Melbourne out of anywhere else Australia wide.

The cougar’s top 3 bars/nightclubs:

- The Metrapol Bar, St Kilda, (VIC)

- The Saint Hotel, St Kilda, (VIC)

- The Esplanade, St Kilda (VIC)

Physical attributes:

Think of that old saying your jealous mum usually blurts out when she sees an older woman in public with a bangin’ body.”Mutton dressed as lamb”.

While the cougar is determined to dress in anything which urges people to ask whether their daughter is their sister, their choices are clever. Each piece of clothing leads to the avoidance of the dreaded question “How old are you?”.

The cougar’s top 3 trends:

- Over the knee boots (Think long, long boots, and then make them a little longer. Child birth wasn’t kind to those pins but they still want to show them off)

- Breast implants (similarly, giving their child- the one that is the same age as their current date, the gift of life also meant depleting those once sexy assets. The answer? Make them bigger than they ever were)

- G-strings (“Oops, I dropped my glasses, I’ll just bend over and pick them up”. Enough said)

Their goal:
As a general rule of thumb, the cougar’s ‘goal’ can be equated using a simple, yet affective, formula.
If you’re under 40: their goal is your boyfriend.
If you’re over 40: their goal is your son.

How to fit in with the cougar:
When wanting to get on the common cougar’s good side, an extravagant and totally untrue compliment regarding age always earns those brownie points (literally).

You: “So, what are you… twenty?”
Cougar: Reow.
If you’re male, a night of hot sex will ensue. If you’re female, meet your new BFF.

How to avoid the cougar:

Ladies, talk about your period pains. The cougars will be reminded of their onset of menopause, become extremely intimidated, and vacate the premises.

The cougar’s drink of choice:
The martini, shaken not stirred. The cougar has watched Sex and The City one too many times, resulting in a Carrie identity delusion.

Sophie Lane

You’re invited to “jump, jive and wail”

You’ve cut your Bettie Page fringe just right, you’ve drawn on your fake tattoos with precision and after taking the advice of the previous post you’re feeling as rockabilly as they come.

Well now it’s time to test the extent of your yesteryear devotion, Buddy Holly.

Lace up yo’ shoes, pull those white socks a little higher, and add one more smack of grease to that head of hair, you’re invited to a real life 1950′s rockabilly rage.

A little different to your average bar hopping experience, right?

Sophie Lane

The ‘rockabilly’

The spotting of a true rockabilly can leave any given clubber with the heeby jeebies. Don’t get ‘all shook up over it though, the rockabilly type bear a lot less bite than first glance. Although meeting someone who looks like they’ve time travelled sixty odd years is a little off putting, this bunch will welcome you with open arms, provided you’ve got that hair grease just right.

Habitat:

Sightings of the odd rockabilly are reported more than one would first assume. Keep your eyes peeled in the CBD of your closest city and you’ll be pleasantly surprised. The further out one moves from pretentious city-life, the less likely the tattoo tethered spottings. For optimal population growth, these creatures need  fresh cider, red leather restaurant booths and stares from walkers by. Not surprisingly trendy little old Melbourne town is their city of choice.

The Rockabilly’s top 3 nightclubs/bars:

- Yah Yah’s, Melbourne

- Misty’s Diner, Chapel Street, Melbourne

- Workshop, Melbourne

Physical Attributes:

Think the final scene of Grease where Sandra Dee steps out in tight leather and big hair. A few adjustments of sleeve tattoos, black hair die and suggestive clothing… now you’re thinking Rockabilly.

The female Rockabilly is known for attempting to recreate a human form of the 1950′s pin up girl, meanwhile the male Rockabilly is known for tattooing 195r0′s pin up girls underneath all of that leather. This vicuous cycle lies at the stem of the rockabilly, a 1950′s fuelled fire of nostalgia and yesteryear (of course, it’s not true nostalgia, as true rockerbilly’s needs to be born long after Elvis Presley and Betty Page to obtain true pretentiosness and obscurity).

The Rockabilly’s top 3 trends:

• Tattoo’s (think coloured sailor tattoos that bear no meaning other than that of ‘individuality’)
• Lipstick (sadly you assume I’m talking about a female trend here…)
• Bobby socks (dig through your drawer and find that old pair of white frilly socks you once wore as a five year old. Put them on your 20-something year old feet. Ta da!)

Their goal:

The Rockabilly’s goal is to remind others of a time when things were so much simpler, in a completely redundant pretentious way.

When out bar hopping, the Rockabilly’s goal is to attract other Rockabilly’s until an entire tribe is formed and what was once seen as obscure becomes intimidating to their onlookers.

The above description details the fake Rockabilly, the one who wears leather and opens his mouth only to speak of his latest artwork.

You’ll be glad to know that it’s not all purple people eaters and douche bags, there are some true, kind hearted Rockerbilly’s hiding deep in the grooves of your closest city. Although said ‘individuality’ does tend to lead them to all looking completely identical, a true Rockabilly guy or gal can be spotted in the way that they move those leather bound feet. If you see guy or gal dancing in a fashion which only your Grandma could appreciate (jumpin’ and jivin’), you’ve got yourself a genuine original.

How to fit in with the rockabilly:

If you’re desperate to make your mark on this trendy little clan, but the thought of tattoos leave you a little queezy, I suggest grabbing some permanent markers.

Draw carefully though, the rockabilly’s could interpret your fake tattoos as a stab at their sub-culture and get their invisible bikie gangs onto you.

How to avoid the rockabilly:

If you’ve decided that what trends occurred in the past, should stay in the past, and the taste of leather isn’t your cup of tea, the easiest way to repel the rockabilly is to stick to the suburbs.

The rockabilly’s drink of choice:

Cider. For two reasons:

1. They think it makes them sound like they live in Pleasantville.
2. They secretly hate the taste of beer.

Sophie Lane

If you just can’t get enough of The Suburbanite…

So you’ve run into ‘the suburbanite’ whilst bar hopping, and although the rat tails and buck teeth repel you, it’s a love hate relationship and you just can’t get enough.

If my previous posts aren’t enough to quench that hill billy thirst for your new favourite clique to be cracked, there’s no need to fear.

Tune into ABC on Wednesdays at 9pm for Chris Lilly’s take on the modern day bogan, or catch up on all the action here:

http://www.abc.net.au/tv/angryboys/

Sophie Lane