In my early twenties I did a favor to my self esteem and made a pledge that I would never ever allow myself to feel scrutinized by the so called “doorman discretion door policy.” Meaning, if there’s a huge mob at the door and a line to get in, simply skip the place unless you are on the VIP list of course. And here I was, not once, but TWICE in the same week, waiting (freezing really) behind the velvet rope in line at a happening New York club. Two different nights in the Meatpacking District, completely different crowds, but both times had a similarly bizarre doorman interaction. If there’s something I learned every time I break the pledge is that you have to deal with "the gatekeeper situation". Here are my two accounts of my latest bouncer interaction condensed in less than 3 days. The first one happened at Rendezvous (RDV) with a large group of girls, and the second at 1 Oak, with a huge group of mostly guys. Know that this is not to disencourage you, but only to make you feel like you are not the only one out there. Know that if you really want to get into a happening venue, you CAN!
How to do it with a bunch of girls: We were seven. “Are you on the list?” asks the bouncer who fits the stereotype which is too obvious to be described here. Why do they make you feel so humiliated when you say “no we are not”? Long story short. Ladies, you know the drill: loose the pout and attitude (save it for the dance floor); put on your sweet subservient “I need you” face on. (Urgh…like I said, humiliating.) Listen to him complain and explain it’s impossible to get in tonight. Wait a bit. Listen to him lecturing you about how you should have called to be on the list. Listen him puff. Wait a bit more. Don’t say anything. As if by magic, the velvet rope snaps open, you can go down the narrow stairs to one of the hottest basements in town. Yeah, so impossibly hot and inaccessible that five minutes after we arrived the manager offered us a bottle of champagne on the house. From “not worthy” to VIPs in 10 minutes. Very coherent door policy discretion wouldn’t you agree?
How to do it with a bunch of guys: We were like… eight guys and three girls. Similar scenario. First reaction: always rejection. You pretend you did not hear him. You wait. He comes back, looks for the alpha male of the pack, calls him to the front. Whispering goes on, velvet rope lifts (just for alpha male) who is whisked inside. Five long and cold minutes later, we are called in. Group leader has slipped a couple of hundreds into doorman’s trouser pockets in the name of access for his troop. Money talks. Louder then the thumping house music inside.
How to do it with a bunch of girls: We were seven. “Are you on the list?” asks the bouncer who fits the stereotype which is too obvious to be described here. Why do they make you feel so humiliated when you say “no we are not”? Long story short. Ladies, you know the drill: loose the pout and attitude (save it for the dance floor); put on your sweet subservient “I need you” face on. (Urgh…like I said, humiliating.) Listen to him complain and explain it’s impossible to get in tonight. Wait a bit. Listen to him lecturing you about how you should have called to be on the list. Listen him puff. Wait a bit more. Don’t say anything. As if by magic, the velvet rope snaps open, you can go down the narrow stairs to one of the hottest basements in town. Yeah, so impossibly hot and inaccessible that five minutes after we arrived the manager offered us a bottle of champagne on the house. From “not worthy” to VIPs in 10 minutes. Very coherent door policy discretion wouldn’t you agree?
How to do it with a bunch of guys: We were like… eight guys and three girls. Similar scenario. First reaction: always rejection. You pretend you did not hear him. You wait. He comes back, looks for the alpha male of the pack, calls him to the front. Whispering goes on, velvet rope lifts (just for alpha male) who is whisked inside. Five long and cold minutes later, we are called in. Group leader has slipped a couple of hundreds into doorman’s trouser pockets in the name of access for his troop. Money talks. Louder then the thumping house music inside.
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