My beau and I love dance music - nothing too hardcore just upbeat, handbag house. Enough of a kick to make you want to put your hands in the air. But no so much you end up with tinnitus the next day.
I used to be a serious clubber - often seen on gay boys shoulders at the Fridge in Brixton or clinging precariously to a pole/ledge/podium at Pacha/Amnesia/Privilege in Ibiza. It's in my blood. The whiff of dry ice and the thud of a beatbox and I'm off. Let's say it brings out the excitable side of me. I have been known to dance topless at Gay Pride parties in Sydney, do the splits - by accident - as one heel goes one way and another the other and befriend random people. When I was going through my spiritual phase (the Pray bit of Eat Pray Love) I tried to do shamanic moves to heal the mob of dancers. Or at a Dubai beach party when I tried to recruit a random gay guy as my dancing partner. Not my proudest hour.
But the night of all nights so far was F@CK ME I'm FAMOUS with Cathy and David Guetta at Via Notte. My Beau has a friend who works with them and so we got the ultimate vip invite and treatment. We have done so called VIP before but it is usually a poky corner hidden behind the largest speaker and the celeb DJ is a blob in the distance. This time we arrived - no queue - at the private VIP entrance and were escorted to the space literally next to the DJ box. I nearly wet myself. Touching distance of the power Guetta couple. It was so VIP that only drink was Crystal champagne.
Via Notte is the biggest open air club in Europe and it was already rammed. 6,000 plus party-goers. Everyone was waiting for the king of DJs to make his entrance. I had taken a prime position on a podium next to his pod. Great view though annoyingly a palm tree hindered my dance range. Needless to say I ended up with a couple of scratches from my wilder moves.
As soon as they arrived the club went OFF. Cathy sparkled with a glittery smile and bling bling diamonds. David immediately lifted the house with Tao Cruz Bad Girl. I was jumping in the air with excitement. I looked around and realised no one else was dancing - just dumbstruck teens videoing the spectacle. Talk about virtual living. It then struck me that people had come to watch the Guetta duo rather than actually cub.
Everyone wanted their picture with Cathy. Boys foamed at the mouth and girls gyrated before David. They remained utterly pro and in their love bubble. People get crashing into our vip section. I was not having any of it. I pushed them back out. When they resisted my puny efforts, my beau stepped in and like a bouncer pro he tapped them on the shoulder and nodded at the exit with authority.
The music got harder and the club got hotter. Skinny models with giraffe legs in tight hot pants and nipple tassels climbed into human cages or hung from ribbons, in sexy positions. One old guy who had crashed our section started to caress two young girls thinking he was a real Dom Juan, more like Hugh Heffner. Then a gawky teen pushed his way to where Cathy Guetta was in reach and embarrassingly asked her for a kiss. She was very cool and polite - and smiled through the mayhem around them.
Gone are the days of clubbing etiquette where you everyone has enough personal space, people actually dance and DJs remained god-like. I was determined to honour their music and us relative oldies bopped away all night.
At about 4am the F@CK ME I'm FAMOUS experience really kicked in - they launched hundreds of white luminous wands into the crowds and robots firing light lasers psyched up the crowd. He mixed the real stuff - Daft Punk and even put on a cover of Save the World made famous by the Swedish House Mafia. Only the best have the confidence to play other peoples work. We were at a night in Cannes recently and asked a fairly well know French mixer for Axwell and he gave us a stony look.
Then the finale - his last track - a new single with Usher - Without You. A brilliant marketing sneak peek of his next album. It was one last adrenalin shot before the cool couple left the building.
We staggered out at 6am and I immediately hit the wall. I can dance for hours non stop but as soon as I stop my feet become aware of the heel torture they have endured all night. My beau was on a high as there was an aroma of a nearby pizzeria promising a doughy cheesy breakfast.
It's been a while since I have seen the sunrise and I felt like I was back in Ibiza. I would head straight to Space and then Bora Bora beach for a sleep before it started all over again. Only this time I felt like I had run a marathon and could hardly speak. Maybe my days of setting fire to the dance floor every night are over. Or maybe a dancefest now and then with a 3 month recovery is do-able especially with the creme de la creme of DJs. David and Cathy Guetta are the ultimate rockstar couple. Vive le french clubbing!Suggest a correction