Confessions from the Velvet Ropes - Softcover

Onorato, Thomas

 
9780312354596: Confessions from the Velvet Ropes
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0312354592 ISBN 13: 9780312354596
Verlag: St. Martin's Press, 2006

Inhaltsangabe

New York's top doorman, Thomas Onorato, raises the ropes and gives readers a sneak peak into some of the world's most exclusive parties.

"If you are not on the guest list or if I don't know you or if I don't like you, you are NOT GETTING INTO THIS PARTY!"
The doorman. The gatekeeper of the night. These silent observers see it all and yet say nothing. Until now. In Confessions from the Velvet Ropes, New York's top club doorman, Thomas Onorato, lifts the ropes and lets ordinary readers into this exciting world. The book is an entertaining and hilarious collection of tales from the worlds of nightlife, fashion shows and celebrity parties. Highlights include: The night Madonna DJed at an intimate downtown club, Courtney Love’s surprise concert that ended in her arrest, the crazed stalker who attacked Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker, the aerial attack on Adrien Brody’s birthday party, Diddy’s surprise appearance at an electro-punk event and more. Onorato was always on hand and brings his insider info and nightlife wisdom to readers of Confessions from the Velvet Ropes. Combining elements of juicy gossip columns, rock star fan memoirs and nightlife social studies, Confessions from the Velvet Ropes is a tell-all with style, including humorous side-bars and tips on how readers might make it past the velvet ropes.

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Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Thomas Onorato has worked the door for the Coral Room, Plaid and Crobar and has also produced a number of NY fashion shows, including B-Rude by Boy George. Currently he is the doorman for the largest rock and roll party in the US, Motherfucker, and MisShapes, a weekly dance party.
Glenn Belverio is a New York based journalist who is a veteran of the city’s nightlife and fashion scenes. He was the New York editor of the cutting-edge fashion magazine Dutch and has written for Conde Nast Traveler, i-D, Black Book and numerous European and Asian publications. In 2003, he received the award for Editorial Excellence from the Society of Publishers.


Thomas Onorato has worked the door for the Coral Room, Plaid and Crobar and has also produced a number of NY fashion shows, including B-Rude by Boy George. Currently he is the doorman for the largest rock and roll party in the US, Motherfucker, and MisShapes, a weekly dance party.
Glenn Belverio is a New York based journalist who is a veteran of the city's nightlife and fashion scenes. He was the New York editor of the cutting-edge fashion magazine Dutch and has written for Conde Nast Traveler, i-D, Black Book and numerous European and Asian publications. In 2003, he received the award for Editorial Excellence from the Society of Publishers.

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Confessions from the Velvet Ropes
1.
I got a date with the night.
--YEAH YEAH YEAHS
 
 
 
 
 
"Hi." "This is a message for Thomas Onorato. My name is Sarah Goreman and I'm the fashion editor for Irish Márie Claire magazine." The shrill, nasally voice that is being emitted from Thomas's answering machine has the aural appeal of a car alarm. Thomas rolls his eyes as he applies a layer of Shu Uemura pancake foundation. There's no such thing as an Irish Marie Claire, he says to himself. "And I'm calling to find out if I can get on the list tonight for the Cirque du Soleil party at The Roxy. I'd like to bring the photo editor from Ocean Drive magazine, his two assistants, Omarosa's stylist--" Thomas throws his makeup sponge down in disgust at the mention of the C-list celebrity name. He stomps over to the phone and picks it up.
"Hi, this is Thomas and I'm very sorry, but the guest list is closed for the night." He tries to sound sweet, but after dealing with dozens of calls like this tonight, he's more than a bit exasperated--and late for a meeting with the club's staff. "Andjust so you know--it's not a party for Cirque du Soleil, it's Motherfucker's fifth anniversary. The party has a circus theme." He hangs up and punches in the number for his car service, hoping that the ten minutes it will take the car to get there will be enough time for him to apply his eye makeup--just a dab to complete his rocker chic look--and get dressed.
Thomas arrives at The Roxy thirty minutes late, which, in club time, is about an hour early. Maura, an assistant to one of the party's organizers, is standing by the coat check counter opening up boxes that contain CD samplers and copies of Paper magazine, which will be distributed to the party's attendees. She is dressed in a vintage 'fifties black swimsuit and a yellow bolero jacket. "Hi Maura," Thomas says. "Love the look." He begins organizing the various guest lists for the evening. "Are the midget, er, 'vertically challenged' go-go dancers here yet?" he asks.
"I think I saw a mini Alice Cooper over by the ice machine a few minutes ago, but I'm not positive," she tells him. "I was up late last night working on a paper, so sometimes I imagine things when I'm overtired." Maura is studying "feminist geography" at the New School and is working on a thesis about the "gender and geography of dance floors." At one point she sets down a stack of CDs, whips out a notepad, and reads a passage from her thesis. "Motherfucker has always appeared to me to be inclusive to all things feminine. At any given moment I could look around the room and see many bodies parading around in short skirts, high heels, and fabulous wigs--yet this scenenever seems defined by biology in the decision of who 'gets to wear the pants.'"
"That's fab, doll!" Thomas enthuses. "It puts me in mind of the time Susan Sontag showed up at Jackie 60. Apparently Betty Page and bondage were on her menu that week."
Tonight is the fifth anniversary of Motherfucker, a very successful, multisexual party held at changing venues, that blends timeless rock 'n' roll attitude, androgyny, retro cheekiness, and the music trends of the moment. It is often described as a "rock 'n' roll Studio 54," except there are no quaaludes in evidence and there isn't exactly a twenty-first-century equivalent of Andy Warhol or Truman Capote on the guest list--even though there are probably a few who would lay claim to that stratosphere. Aside from that, though, there are enough similarities to justify the comparison. Which brings us to the scene at the door.
Like Studio 54 and later clubs of that caliber, Motherfucker is a dictatorship at the door and a democracy on the dance floor. So, once you get past the doorman's discerning eye, you end up dancing among an eclectic gathering that includes celebrities, glam gays, neo new wave girls, goth rock transsexuals, and ambiguously bisexual boys from the boroughs. For the four years that Thomas has been in charge of dictating the club's ropes, he has earned a roster of not-exactly-flattering nicknames. "Door Bitch" is the most famous--and the one that's stuck--but there's also "Door Whore," "Velvet Ropes Nazi," "Glam-osaurus Rex," "Buzzkill Bitch," or simply "That StupidQueen"--that last one is usually uttered by an underage, Staten Island homophobe who never gets in.
Whenever a camera or a reporter's tape recorder is thrust in Thomas's direction--which is often--he enthusiastically rises to his own defense.
"People think I'm an elitist asshole, but I'm actually not. I don't want to ruin anyone's night," he will say earnestly, again and again. "If you want to get into a club where I'm at the door, you need to think ahead. Pick a look and work it: Bowie, Bauhaus, or Blondie--but not Limp Bizkit." Like Steve Rubell--the manager of Studio 54 who also acted as one of the club's doormen--Thomas believes in creating great parties by "curating" the right mix of people. The job is a dictatorship, nonetheless--and there will always be some pissed-off party-hoppers who won't make the grade and will be sent straight to the nightlife gulag. If only they had invested in that vintage Deborah Harry garbage bag dress instead of a beige Anne Klein suit.
Before the Roxy opens for the night, Thomas and Maura busy themselves with scattering copies of Paper and promo CDs around the club. A crew of workers are hanging multicolored balloons and freak show murals around the dance floor and plugging in popcorn and cotton candy machines. The organizers of Motherfucker have chosen a circus theme that not only channels the literal idea of the big top, but also Circus, a hard-rock magazine from the 'seventies. As far as New York nightlife is concerned, the circus has always been a reliabletheme, from the roller boogie clowns at Studio 54 to the cross-dressed trapeze artists at the darkly decadent Disco 2000--an early 'nineties club that was hosted by Michael Alig, a club kid who was later sent to jail for murdering a drug dealer.
"Okay, everyone," Thomas addresses the gathering of bouncers, assistant door people, and promoters who are standing in a circle near the coat check area. "There's going to be two lines tonight: general admission and will-call will line up against the side of the building and guest list guests will form a parallel line. Max and Phil will be in charge of the guest list, while I'll handle the VIPs. Also press and industry people who need to get in right away." Clearly, Thomas is the ringleader of tonight's door scene circus. Patrick, one of the evening's bouncers, looks slightly bored. Even though the Motherfucker crowd is known to love their cocktails in excess, it's rare that fights break out that would require revelers to be forcefully evicted. This isn't the sort of party that attracts a significant number of déclassé rogues, like the people who flock to scores of other clubs around the city. Still, Patrick will be there to back up Thomas's swift door judgments--in the event that a ruthlessly rejected clubgoer gets out of hand, he'll be there to keep things in line.
Thomas, Max, Phil, and Patrick file out to the front of the club where a pair of workers are installing an arch made from silver foil, letter-shaped balloons that spell out "Motherfucker." The door staff takes their positions around "the box"--the busiest area within the velvet ropes, where guestsare admitted, their IDs checked, and their hands stamped before they are hastily shuttled into the venue. Of course, things don't always move as smoothly as the door staff wishes: without fail, there are plenty of people with tall tales of why they don't have their IDs...

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Verlag
St. Martin's Press
Erscheinungsdatum
2006
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0312354592
ISBN 13 
9780312354596
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
208
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
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KreGa Onlinehandel GmbH
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