Goodbye Luxe...it was fun-ish for one night.

What is the problem with the night life in Philly? I don’t get it. This is a major city, nestled midway between New York and D.C., both of which have a healthy array of night-life options appropriate for their magnitude and population. Now I know Philly is no New York. Hell, Philly is not even D.C. But c’mon, the night life around here resembles that of a city with the magnitude of a dead duck. You know it’s a sad day when I’d rather be in BALTIMORE on a Friday night than stuck choosing between Guitar Hero and a movie and drink at The Bridge.

So what’s the problem? I’ll tell you what the problem is – Luxe Lounge. No, not Luxe specifically, but the kind of practices they are engaging in which will indubitably ultimately result in their demise. I’ve seen it all before. I hate to tell you Luxe, but unless you change your ways, you are doomed to fail.


First of all, you charge a $20 cover. I’ve been to Luxe – twice. Neither occasion was anything to write home about. The first time I left within 20 minutes of arriving. The second time I muddled through, but felt like a sardine in a can, started sweating the moment I walked in the door, and some random lesbian ended up grabbing my ass. Not cool – and definitely not worth $20 of my hard earned money. You see, what Luxe and so many of it’s predecessors failed to realize is that there is a solid core of young black professionals (YBPs stand up!!) present in the Philadelphia area. For the most part, WE ALL KNOW EACHOTHER. We don’t like to be huddled up like sardines in a can, we don’t like to pay $20 for admission (many of us are grad/professional students - HELLO!!), and we certainly don’t like random gays grabbing our booties when we walk by. Nevertheless, you need us. You need us because we bring the two things to your club that will ensure its longevity: style and civility. Trust me when I tell you that Palmers and Pinnacle have the ghetto club scene on lock. If I wanted to sweat my ass off, have dudes rub their hoo-hoos on my behind, and flirt with common thugs – I’d go there. And I wouldn’t have to pay $20 to get in. But Luxe, I’m not your problem. Your problem is that 99% of the YBP community feels the same way. How long do you think it’s going to be before the word spreads that what you’re offering is no different than Transit or Fuzion? Why would we YBPs wanna pay $20 for that, when we can go to Bamboo or Walnut Room for free?

Second, your drinks are overpriced. Most of us YBPs have our own bars at home. We realize that we can buy a whole fifth of Jack for the $10 you’re charging for a Jack and coke. Smh. Nuff said.


Third, you’re frisking me at the door. I respect what you’re are trying to do, but understand it’s sending the wrong signal. It’s telling me that you’re EXPECTING hoodlums to try to get into your club. I would hope that instead you’d be fixated on attracting the kind of civil and stylish crowd that would be a pure turn-off to hood rats. I’ve never been frisked at Walnut Room, Tragos, Bamboo...and yes, anything could happen at any of those places at anytime, but when you frisk it says to me that you’re trying to protect yourself from a liability – that you EXPECT trigger-happy, knife wielding fools to get stupid on your watch. I got news for you Luxe, frisking hoods doesn’t keep them under control. If you expect those kinds of fools to come through your door, than you must not be expecting me (and the rest of the YBPs). But alas, I accept that Luxe’ dubious location (next door to Pinnacle) may make frisking and purse-rifling a necessity. However, could you please hire some petite, friendly-faced, seemingly heterosexual, young women to frisk me? Why do I have to get frisked by some big-bodied, bald-headed, broad-shouldered, husky-voiced bitch? I feel even MORE violated by that than I would if some uninvited man felt up my legs and abdomen.

Fourth, you’re playing Soulja boy and “Stanky Leg”. Really?? If you want style and civility to last in your establishment, YOU HAVE TO HIRE A DJ WITH A NOTED REPUTATION OF ATTRACTING SUCH. Remember when Tragos used to be hot every Saturday night? That had more to do with WHO was spinning and WHAT he was playing, than it did the establishment itself. Don’t believe me? Go to Tragos on a Saturday night now that THAT DJ has retired his post – tumbleweeds. Look Luxe, I’m pushing 30, I appreciate a little Marvin Gaye and Soul Sonic Force mixed in with my Jay-Z and Beyoncè. Judging by the elation evident in the YBP crowd when Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” comes on, they do too. If you want to attract us you gotta play what we wanna hear – and Soulja boy and “Stanky Leg” ain’t it. I suggest you hire a respectable DJ and put him on a regular rotation. How about your favorite DJ's favorite DJ – Brendan Bring ‘Em? Just a suggestion. At this point you’ll probably need to pay him boat-loads of money just to convince him to cooperate - since I’m sure by now he’s wise to the idea that you need him WAY more than he needs you.

Last but not least, you have no respect for the ladies. You know what makes men come to the club? Women. You know what makes women come the club? Men. The trick to ensuring the longevity of a night spot is simple: get the women and the men will come…and once the men arrive, the women will stay. That’s why pretty girls don’t have to wait in line and pay reduced admissions at most reasonable establishments. Generally, the bouncers just let us right in without too much hassle. Hmph. I took a solo sojourn to our beloved Luxe Lounge last night. I didn’t leave until after the game was over, meaning I didn’t arrive at the door until around 12:45. The bouncer (who recognized me as a friend of a friend) was super-concerned about checking my ID (presumably because his manager was in the vicinity). Two seconds later, the manager emerges with a girl he’s threatening to put out simply because she didn’t put her shoes back on fast enough after he told her to. I observe this and immediately reach for my cell phone; I’m having reservations. Seeing as how my first two visits to Luxe were nothing more than blah, there’s a $20 cover, and a future stalker on the horizon (**insider: that dude from Walnut Room), I’m not so sure this Luxe thing is what I really wanna do tonight. I text my boy (a Philly YBP) who’s already inside – “is it worth it”. I’m waiting for his response, meanwhile I make my way to the hgusky bitch who’s supposed to frisk me and rifle through my purse before I'm permitted the pleasure of paying the $20 cover. I grudgingly open my purse to her. She looks me in the eye, points at my mouth, and then at the trash. “What?” I asked perplexed. She smirks - “Your gum has to go in the trash”. WHAT! That’s absurd. Nah son. CURVE!! I turn around and head out the door. Two seconds later I get a text from the homie who I’d asked if it was worth it. His response: “borderline”. Right. $20 for 1 hour and 15 minutes of “borderline” – and that’s BEFORE I buy a drink. Nah son, I’m cool. Like I said before - CURVE! What a waste of time and an outfit – and you know how much women HATE to waste an outfit. **Sigh**

I hope you folks that did make it inside Luxe last night had a real blast – but I’m sure you didn’t. So like I said at the outset, goodbye Luxe – it was fun-ish for one night.