Okay, let’s admit it. It’s wildly self-indulgent for a publication to throw a launch party to pat itself on the back, have a good time, and then pat itself on the back again for patting itself on the back. But that’s just what we’re going to do.
Last night. Vegas. The Playboy Club. We celebrated the launch of Clubplanet Las Vegas magazine, a publication that will forever change the landscape of Vegas media, if not all print media, period. Okay, maybe not. But it’s a guide that will tell you where to drink, where to dance, where to blow your hard-earned money.
As a special added bonus, I learned a helpful drinking tip. At the party, Absolut debuted their new “pear” flavored vodka, which, it turns out, mixes surprisingly well with Sprite. Yes, there might not be a more effeminately-named drink than a “Pear and Sprite,” but that didn’t stop us from drinking it in large quantities, and it shouldn’t stop you.
The party was a blend of nightlife industry regulars (from Tao, Body English, Empire, Tryst, etc.), Clubplanet staffers, and the kind souls from What’s On magazine, which publishes Clubplanet Las Vegas, and, um, kinda does all the real work. Oh, and Playboy bunnies. Lots and lots of playboy bunnies.
Speaking of, we finally had a chance to meet the Playboy Bunny cover-girl herself, Heidi, who, in the magazine, answered burning questions like her favorite prime number (7), and whether she prefers Kant or Hegel (Kant). Heidi later did a meet and greet, posed for some pictures, and even signed some autographs…I’m selling mine on e-bay for $1.50
Robin Leech is apparently still alive—good news for him—the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous star was sprawled across on the of the club’s ridiculously posh sofas.
You know why Vegas wins? On our way out of the club, we’re still carrying glasses of Pear and Sprites. (Okay. That really does sound sissy. We need to get a better name.) The bouncers stop us. I’m about to get all huffy, and then the bouncers helpfully, and politely, give us plastic cups, and we pour the alcohol from glass to plastic, and we go about our merry way. If that happened in New York, a squadron of 30 NYPD cops would throw us all in jail.
Afterwards we hit the post-party at Ghostbar, with Chris Clouse and DJ Soloman. Now, there are industry events, and there are industry events. The local crowd—part of Gossip Tuesdays at Ghosbar—treated Chris with what can only be described as, well…reverence. When he picked up his guitar and stepped to the mic, the entire place stopped talking, stopped flirting, and just gave him their absolute attention. It was surreal.
Later, the crowd roared to life when Clouse started doing covers, and this, sadly, gets us to the low point of the night. When Clouse did a cover of “Money For Nothing,” this twiggy little 20-year-old turned to her girlfriends, frowned, and said, “Do you guys know this song? I don’t know it.” And neither did her friends. Sigh. Am I really that old?
Around 4 am, with my official Clubplanet duties behind me, I retreated to the sweet, calm comfort of the blackjack tables. Which we won’t talk about. Let’s just say that after last night, I’m an expert—EXPERT—in the layout of the Palms’ ATM and cashier windows. In fact, from any blackjack table in the Palms, you can blindfold me, spin me around, and I’ll still find my way to the closest ATM within ten seconds.
Time me.
