Good Night Mr. Lewis: The Haves and Have-Nots

The beginning of the recession for most clubs was around six months ago, but many have seen an even steeper decline in business in the last couple of months. Clubs on the fringe are now starting to fall apart, one here, one there. Manor, Dirty Disco, and a half a dozen others are either done, almost done, or getting redone to be something new and of course, fabulous. As the recession deepens the clubs will be divided sharply into the Haves and the Haves-Nots. For 1Oak, nothing has changed; their smart, affluent crowd spends thousands like most spend dimes. For 1Oak, the economic downturn is dinner conversation or an inconvenience. Although they aren’t completely immune, the money they spend on the night is a relative pittance.

It’s like a rainy night in town when everybody is slow. People find themselves in half-empty joints asking, “Where should we go besides here?” Someone will say, ”Marquee is always crowded,” and they’ll head there. This happens and clubs all over town empty out, and sure enough Marquee is packed. The recession will look like this, with the worst clubs getting worse and the better clubs scooping up the clientele, surviving, and even thriving for a bit.

The difficulty in obtaining liquor licenses and the impossibility of obtaining a cabaret license adds a strange twist. So far, I’m hard pressed to remember anything that’s closed closed because joints that fail make management deals with other operators, get remodeled, and reopen as “new.” They are invariably picked up by the owners of Haves as the second, third, or fourth venue they operate. It’s the Lotus space redone by the Tenjuners or the Greenhouse space from the Home crowd. Virtually all the Haves are looking to pick up a second spot as well as import their brand to another city, like Beatrice in Atlantic City, or everybody in Vegas. Hey, this week Webster Hall—itself under a massive overhaul by me, your humble servant—is opening a franchised spot down in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic.

Clubs on the Have Not tip see the writing on the wall and are making adjustments. They lower their prices and rip out furniture, allowing more volume and crowds that the rest aren’t promoting to. Some of these clubs become very specialized. Arena went full circle and became Circle, a highly successful Korean club. Arena still exists as a corporate space, but its club nights (except for the gay Sundays) are Asian. I was brought in to see a space recently in mid-Chelsea. The owner’s plan was to give the boite a quick low-budget turnover just enough to generate some income. His concept was to continually sell “new,” and as soon as the place felt old, revamp it once again. He figured every six months. This idea interests me, as “new” is something that almost always sells as a concept.

Area, a top-five-of-all-time club, used to do a complete remodeling every four months or so as its game plan. Each renovation had a new opening and brought new life to the tiring spot. I attacked it with my weapon of mass destruction—the hugely financed Palladium. The well-publicized opening of Area was an easy target; I just spent whatever it took to disrupt their event. I would book a huge act or a fashion show from Moschino, Katherine Hamnet, or Le Defile by Regine Chopinot with Gaultier costumes ... something like that. The club elite figured they could see Area’s new decor “tomorrow” while my thing was a one-off. With the steam out of their openings, Area tried to become event-oriented, but Palladium could always offer a lot more. The last Area installation was called the “Emperor’s New Clothes,” and it was basically a vanilla box where you could imagine your own decor. It didn’t work, and Area went out of business. Imagine that.