Haze Nightclub

“Great”. Minus one exclamation mark and the preceding word summed up the plummeting mood of my Saturday evening, just before I had even reached the club. Sarcasm, it’s a helpful tool isn’t it? Though I hate to say it, following a night out at Boutique Nightclub on Greville Street, possibly the club really did earn an exclamation mark following all.

The first blow to my night came when the wine guzzling passenger to my left told me (told me? Who am I kidding? Squealed. Yes, far more than two glasses of wine constantly results in a definite squeal) that we wouldn’t be heading to our normal spot. I’d been fooled. Kidnapped. Blinded. And now I was pissed. I hadn’t heard much about the location, but the image in my thoughts rang out alarm bells of underage peroxide headed girls rolled in tandoori-chicken fake tan. I looked down at my bottle of untouched Moscato and took in a great sigh of acceptance. The drunken haze had to commence somewhere, appropriate? And according to my pessimistic self at 10.40pm, I was satisfied to drink up prior to I would bail out. “Fantastic.”

Upon entering the venue, my greatest fears and worst enemies weren’t anywhere to be seen. The usual freezing nightclub line up went smoothly and rapidly, and no stiletto stomps from overly excited underages. Even my ID (which needs a desperate update as at age 18 I was dying my hair black with the hopes of becoming perceived as “deep”) was scanned and accepted ahead of the usual declaration of name, age, date of birth, address and star sign whilst closing my eyes and providing bank cards as secondary evidence. The night was hunting up. After just a couple of measures into the club, a sense of exclusivity is the initial of numerous issues Boutique provided. As an alternative of being greeted by a lack of oxygen, I was met with an open space. A central bar which could be accessed from many angles added the second tick of approval, and no extended catty cues or spews in the female restrooms meant I was one particular content drunk.

As my disposition lifted and Boutique started to fill up, the mood of the venue lifted from a relaxed lounge bar really feel to an energetic dancing hub. Friday evening is retro evening at Boutique, which helped to curb my enthusiasm up one more notch. Typically when a club is ‘retro’, the oldest factor in the room is the music, but not here. As I turned my head close to to give one of my fellow wine guzzlers a sloppy alcohol induced adore declaration, I was met with the one particular, the only, Molly Meldrum. Molly the man himself grinded, bumped and shared many sweat beads with the population of Boutique nightclub, whilst the second star for the evening created her way to the dj booth. Something old some thing new? It was none other than Ruby Rose, Australia’s MTV tattooed queen. “Fantastic!” Now that deserves an exclamation mark. I didn’t need the self induced wine guzzling gaze soon after all.