April 27th - Clermont Lounge

Eh Meh Geh! I think I’m still tipsy from last night. I’m going to pay for this for the next eight hours of copywriting I have to do. I don’t care. It was worth it. In the midst of celebrating my 32nd birthday week, I made the insane decision to go to Clermont Lounge. Now what exactly would possess me to go to a strip club/dive bar on a Tuesday night? I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to do something out of the ordinary. Plus it was karaoke night.

A little history. Clermont Lounge is the only remaining operational portion of the Clermont Hotel. Clermont Hotel was built back in 1924 and served as apartments for many years before officially becoming a motor hotel. Eventually, it was condemned because it quite literally was a hot mess. However, the Clermont Lounge is still alive and kicking. Opened in 1965, it is officially the first and longest running strip club in Atlanta. I’d heard about the place from a couple of acquaintances way back when I first moved here. They referred to it as the place where strippers go to die. If you Google it, then you’ll find all kinds of reviews about its randomness. It’s just one of those places that you have to see. Hence, I chose to see it last night.

We got there at about 11:00pm, parked and took a couple of pictures of the exterior since no cameras would be allowed inside. We were greeted by this ruffian, bearded, motorcyclist-looking bouncer guy. After showing him our IDs, we entered. The interior had one of those root beer glows to it. You know. Brown and murky. To our left was the stage for karaoke and a collection of tables and chairs. In front of us was a juke box which was only allowed to be operated by the strippers. To the right was a horseshoe shaped bar lined with some sort of padding for the elbows and adorned with various bumper stickers. Dancing on a stage in the middle of the bar was a very naked and very tattooed bleach blond woman who had to be in her late 30s. She had a fairly fit body and very perky implants. We sat down at the bar to order a beer and a cocktail. Two and a half drinks and three strippers later, I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

Here’s the thing. None of the strippers were young. None of them had pin-up bodies. One of them -her name was Solai- didn’t even get naked. Instead, Solai kind of pranced around in these really cute boots. After Sweetheart gave me some tip cash, I gave Solai a dollar and asked her where she got those bad boys. She thanked me graciously before telling me. When Sweetheart called her “queen” she flashed some nipples our way. The next lady had to be at to be 50...at least. Her body had definitely seen better days but she pranced around coyly and then spanked herself for us. We tipped her too. I think the icing on the stripper cake was this really meaty chick. She made her ass clap. I applauded. That takes talent. We tipped her and then discussed how I should go about practicing that same move at home.

I can’t tell you how ridiculously entertained I was. Initially, I felt like I was watching someone’s cookie-baking mother strip but then I realized that these were just real women. Real women have flab and stretch marks. Real women age. But that doesn’t stop them from being in touch with their inner freak, nor does it dictate that they should be ashamed to do so. I don’t think any of these women were stripping because it was the only thing they could do to make money. In fact, status quo would tell them to keep on every inch of their clothing. Instead, I want desperately to believe it was a choice to give the middle finger to conventional notions of beauty. I’m not mad.

After conversing with this guy named Joshua about Sweetheart’s cocktail and the coolest U.S. cities in which to party, we made our way over to a table in front of the karaoke stage. I was pretty lit by then so I can’t even begin to recall what some of the folks were singing. Wait. I do believe that someone sang the theme song to Family Matters. One couple sang A Whole New World. It was pretty terrible. Finally, I got up and sang Prince’s Darling Nikki. I must have put on some show because one of the strippers came over to the stage and tipped me. LOL!!! After I sat down, I was all set to go up again and do Alanis Morisette’s You Oughta Know but Sweetheart reminded me that it was about half past 1 and I still had to go to work at 7:30 in the morning. Poo. Begrudgingly, I agreed to leave.

I had an awesome time. It was so cool because there was no pretense and everybody had a real chill attitude. I like that. Plus, I got to wear these wedge heels I’ve only worn once for the past eight years I’ve had them. It’s the little things.